“The birds are still in flight. Believe the birds.” —Jack Spicer
In case you missed it, you can read the first two installments of this here and here.
May 22
4:24 pm. A dark-eyed junco flew into the balcony, which isn’t unusual since I scatter seeds out there for them to eat. But this time, the bird didn’t come to balcony for seeds. It came for a bigger meal: a moth.
The bird flew up to the ceiling of the balcony, flit around for a second, and then flew down to perch near the bottom of the railing on the ground. There I saw, between its beak, one of those giant moths, the ones that eat other mosquitoes and smaller moths, with its wings and limbs sticking out of the bird’s mouth.
May 24
Walking to the store with R and saw a cooper’s hawk fly onto a lamp post. Their striped tails are memorable to me, like their call.
May 25
Finally fixed the water in the hummingbird feeder. It wasn’t sweet enough for them before. I knew this because they were barely drinking it. I fixed it, and now they’re fighting over who gets a drink.
May 26
8:35 am. Red-tailed hawk spotted on the pine tree again. This time, it’s perched at the very edge of one of the tree’s branches.
May 27
7:42 pm. Hummingbird flies directly into the glass window of the balcony, startling me and R in the living room.
May 28
7:40 pm. Two hummingbirds drink at the feeder at the same time. This surprises me because hummingbirds are quite territorial and fight each other at the feeder — even though there are three different spouts from which to drink. I always find it so funny that such a tiny bird can be so aggressively territorial.
7:55 am. Great blue heron sighting on campus again! I risk being late to class just to watch it walk across the sidewalk. It’s so elegant and graceful. I wonder if it’s the same one I saw the other week.
June 1
I think the water in the hummingbird feeder has officially finished. That was fast.
June 3
7:43 am. House finch flies onto the ledge of the balcony railing and grazes on some seeds. This is the first time I’m seeing a house finch on the balcony eating. Usually it’s the dark-eyed juncos that fly into the balcony and graze on seeds.
June 27
5:36 pm. Accidentally followed a red-tailed hawk on my walk: from the lamp post near the street light to the trees by the neighborhood across the bridge. Even when I lost sight of it, I could still hear it. In fact, its high-pitched call has been ringing around the neighborhood a lot recently. I don’t think I’ve heard it call this much all year. I wonder if it’s defending its nest, like the bird beneath the staircase of the building near the parking lot.
June 30
8:33 am. The baby chicks are chirping again in their nest above a small fire alarm box under the staircase. I saw a dark-eyed junco (I think) perched on a lamp on the wall next to the nest. I wonder whether the chicks are hers. Every time I walk past the nest, I see the chicks’ mouths wide open at first, only for a brief moment. Then they close them right away. Their heads bob around, as if floating like a balloon, their necks strings. I think I can make out at least four or five heads or beaks, but I can’t tell whether their eyes are open yet.
July 2
9:02 am. A murder of crows hangs out in the courtyard. They’re scattered across the dewy grass. I count twelve in total.
9:05 am. Walking to my car to go to yoga and hear the red-tailed hawk calling again. I look up and see it perched at the top of the pine tree again, like a perfect Christmas tree topping.
July 3
7:51 am. The hummingbirds are already beginning their fights over the feeder. I refilled the feeder on Sunday. It’s now Thursday, and it’s already over halfway empty.
8:04 am. Dark-eyed junco makes a brief visit to the balcony for some seeds.
8:19 am. Dark-eyed junco comes back to the balcony for seconds. But this time it’s followed by a few finches that perch on the railing but fly away quickly, one by one, startled by the hummingbirds zipping all around.
8:23 am. A hummingbird just flew straight into the balcony window. Again.
3:06 pm. Dark-eyed junco pays a visit for an afternoon graze.
5:47 pm. Two dark-eyed juncos graze on the balcony.
July 4
8:59 am. Two very fluffy mourning doves perch on the railing of the French window balcony outside the office. I’m sitting on the green couch with R, staring in awe — this is the first time I’ve seen mourning doves (or any bird that big) on the French window balcony. One of them is perched in stillness, while the other cleans itself. I was sad when I had to get up and leave.
9:05 am. Walking to my car and checking on the baby chicks again. They’re getting bigger. I see three of them now, fully formed. It looks like they might still be in their eggs, but they’re bursting out of the shells.
10:47 am. Walking past the chicks again. They’re definitely still nestled into their eggs.
July 6
12:47 pm. I pass by the chicks again, and I think I only see two of them in the nest today. Did one of them make it out already? Or is it hiding?
July 7
8:34 am. I think there are only two chicks in the nest now, but they’re still plugged into their eggs.
11:02 am. Mourning dove perches elegantly on the ledge of the stairwell right outside our door.
11:37 am. The mourning dove is still there.
July 8
3:29 pm. I’m not sure if there’s still two chicks in the nest or just one now. Everything looks blurred together. I do, however, see the mom today. She’s in the nest with them for some reason. Is she helping them break out of their shells? All I know is that’s definitely not a dark-eyed junco, even though I thought it was the right ID before. This bird looks bigger than a dark-eyed junco, and it doesn’t seem like it has the white/lighter coloring that the dark-eyes junco has on its underside.
July 9
8:55 am. They’re out! They escaped the eggs! Two of them are finally out of their shells and perched beside the nest! I saw the mom fly out just now too. I was trying to ID the bird since now I know it’s not a dark-eyed junco. I was thinking maybe it’s a cliff swallow, but I’m not sure. The chicks in the nest have a bright, white stripe underneath each of their eyes, and I mixed that up with the white forehead of a cliff swallow. I can’t seem to figure out what kind of bird I just watched go from nestling to fledgling in that nest beneath the stairwell.
10:46 am. They’re gone. The babies, who I just saw out of their eggs for the first time less than two hours ago, are gone. For the first time since I’ve seen it, the nest is completely empty. All that’s left is feathers and shit.
