Bethany, My Gestating Blackbird
In June of last year, I wrote about an immature magpie who aborted his useless, half-baked nest in a nearby tree. The remnants of his forsaken project are still pending and clinging to the tree, despite nature’s frequent exertions to blow it into smithereens. Now, as April has once again nudged the wildlife into propagating modus, birds of all varieties are succumbing to the urge to set up home with a mate.
Thus, in the high soffits of the eave over my large balcony, a new lodger took a fancy to the location to build a nest. Notwithstanding the fine, metal spikes installed by the builder, to avoid this very form of trespassing, this agile blackbird was really rather clever. Far from preventing her construction, the V-shaped spikes offered her the perfect cradle, to keep her nest safe and snug, with a convenient roof over her head to prevent her new home from getting soggy. Initially, I frequently went out to the balcony to watch her progress. At most I saw a little beak and a beady eye in profile, sitting for hours on end, twiddling her claws. It was a very damp and windy April this year, despite our climate fanatics, insistent on global warming, but our feathery brooder stayed the course in solitary confinement. I actually felt little spasms of affection towards this feisty female, and I christened her Bethany. A large blackbird often took up sentry duty on the roof of the neighbouring house, and rustled up a rousing melody for his patient partner, to help her keep the faith.
Suddenly he has started bringing beaks full of live worms to pamper her and help her to bear her cross with equanimity. Unfortunately, he’s not such a good shot and some of the worms and grubs overshoot the nest and land on the balcony floor. I scoop up the live ones and relocate them over the balcony wall to the garden below. Even I can’t be asked to zoom up a ladder and deposit them personally in the nest. Who hasn’t accidentally dropped the shopping on the ground of the parking lot? All kinds of twigs, fluff and insects seem to be surplus to requirements and don’t arrive at their intended destination, but I clear them up with good grace as I mentally try to encourage her from woman to woman in her somewhat frosty isolation.
Today however, things have swiftly heralded a most unfortunate development. My balcony floor has now converted itself into a massive toilet with large splodges of faecal matter landing with alarming regularity. I have no idea if Bethany is holding a baby shower aloft, but the impact is imposing. Hardly has one large area been cleared away, when there is instantly a repeat performance of multiple blobs. Of course, it could be partially from her hubby during his visiting time. He might need to offload his own unwanted matter, while delivering Bethany’s take-aways. But the colossal quantity, gives the word ‘shitstorm’ that we so often hear these days, a whole new meaning.
In the light of this new progression, I have to say I can’t wait for Bethany to complete her propagation process and migrate back to her more natural habitat, among the trees and bushes, where she can offload herself with joyful abandon. Since there is no sign of any little chicks at this stage, I somehow fear for the next few days, and the substance that will be descending upon me. It seems like the gift that keeps on giving! At least the free, weekly newspapers that I don’t need or read due to their contents, can now finally justify their existence in catching bird poop – all in a good cause!
Photo: Pexels-Pixabay