My Own Little Peyton Place: Backyard Bird Shenannigans

June has finally arrived, and the apple trees are shedding their froth of pink and white blossoms. Each new day brings a fresh shower of petals fluttering down from the trees.

Our yard is blessed with two lovely old apple trees. The one, a Hyer 12, is a great producer. It somehow managed to grow two extra stems that were never removed, so it now presides over its side of the yard as one of the few multi-stemmed apple trees around.

The smaller Harrelson Red on the other side of the walkway, thankfully but unintentionally stunted by an encroaching fir, has never achieved much stature, but faithfully produces a bumper crop every two years, as is its nature.

In the late summer the lawn will be covered with windfalls. We can't keep up with the ripening fruit, but the apples we miss are sent out to an Elk farm, where I hear, they are greatly enjoyed. Better the Elk enjoy them at the farm - we have enough scandalous behavior in the yard as is without a herd of Elk wandering through and upsetting the neighbours again...

Things seemed much simpler when we lived in the country...

When we still lived on the acreage, I would hear the Red-Winged Blackbirds singing their beautiful melodious songs every morning from the depths of the neighbours slough. I listened for their return each Spring, and spent many restful day's end sitting on my deck, soothed by their evening songs.

Once we moved into the city, I had to make do with the occasional trip to the country to hear "my birdies".

Perennially perky chickadees frequent the evergreens in the back yard, so I am not without familiar feathered friends. We keep the bird feeders well stocked for them every winter, and are usually lucky enough to host a few blue jays. I love to see their bright feathers shining in the winter sun as they hop from branch to branch among the evergreens.

Now we live in an older, settled neighbourhood. Jenny Wren returns to her teeny-tiny house perched atop one of the sweet pea fence uprights every year. Papa and Momma Robin rebuild their nest in our neighbour's old maple tree and raise a new brood there each summer. All the neighbours up and down the street, two-legged and feathered alike, know and welcome each other.

One would think it almost a sleepy little place - until one discovers the steamier side of city tree dwellers...

Bob and Carol, two sprightly grey and brown House Sparrows moved into the neighbourhood in the early spring. The apple tree was barely beginning to leaf out when they set up housekeeping in the hollow end of the east facing branch. Bob was busy hauling small twigs and bits of leaves to their new digs, while Carol set to work removing the last vestiges of the former tenants.

Bob must have found work with a bird-nest-building supply company, because home renovations were soon under way. Judging by the branch excavating they both worked away at, it looked like they were preparing for quite a brood.

Soon both Carol and Bob were busily furnishing the new nursery, scrounging for soft grasses and bits of fluff. Bob spent most of one day trying, to our great amusement, to stuff a long clear plastic strip into their abode. We wanted to congratulate them on their recycling initiative, but weren't sure it was the best choice for them.

He would push and tug from the branches opening, and Carol would tug from the inside. Just when they would have part of it stuffed in, a gust of wind would catch the loose end and snatch it back out. Undaunted, the pair spent the better part of two days trying to convince that strip to co-operate. Then Carol, I am sure, must have finally opted for a more traditional floor treatment, and Bob was back at work finding grass and fluff.

Then the magpies took up residence. Papa and Momma Robin were not amused and immediately set up magpie watch. The afternoon's peace would be rent with raucous squawks as the beautiful but incredibly loud intruders were sent packing, chased back to their own trees at the end of our street.

Magpies are lovely birds until they open their mouths. Then that buzz-saw SKRAAAAAK issues forth and all you can think of is how grateful you are that they haven't nested right under your window.

...but the magpies were not the worst of it. Little did we know what other troubles were brewing in our very tree, under our very noses...

Ted and Alice, newcomers to our little neighbourhood, had moved into the crotch of the tree, just above Bob and Carol's hollowed out branch, and were busily building their nest. Things seemed to be going along well, except for the odd territorial squabble about branch-roosting privileges, and who should have first go at the bird feeder.

Then one sultry afternoon, Carol decided to take a quick dip in the bird bath. She was enjoying her solitary splash when suddenly Ted appeared. Perching saucily on the allium next to the fence, he began to woo Carol. Before you could say "Bob's your uncle (or, in this case, husband)", Ted and Carol were enjoying extra-mate-arital relations.

Poppa Robin was scandalized. He and Momma spoke seriously about relocating, but with their clutch on the way, they decided to wait 'til after fledging.

Bob arrived and began to have words with them both. The commotion drew several feathered neighbours. Then Ted spoke up in his own defense, or Carol's perhaps, I'm not sure which, and the flight was on. Back and forth across the yard Bob and Ted zoomed and swooped like demented tiny fighter planes, chirping and chattering enough for an entire flock.

Alice and Carol tried to intervene, but tempers were running too high. When dusk came, an uneasy truce settled over the tree-homes. The worst of the fighting was over, but the battle lines had been drawn. Ted remained strictly away from Bob and Carol's branch, and any attendance at the birdbath was severely punished.

Eventually it all seemed to blow over, and Bob and Carol were too busy keeping the mouths of their many chicks filled to worry about their equally busy neighbours. I have a feeling it isn't all done and down, though. I've seen the way Ted looks at Carol, and I'm sure both couples will be back again after the snows and cold of winter are past.

Next year, I'm gonna build a bench under that apple tree, so Papa Robin and I can keep a closer eye on things.