The Perfidious Mrs. Cowbird

I know you haven't heard from me much lately. My most sympathy-worthy excuse is that I am 36 weeks pregnant and deep, deep into nesting. My cupboards are organized, my mirrors sparkle, and for the first time in about 21 months (since, you know, the last time I was nesting) I am totally on top of keeping the dirty laundry basket empty. Better yet, I accomplished this last feat through actually washing laundry. I haven't hidden so much as a sock. :)

Since nesting is on my mind, I thought I would devote this post to: a nest! A real one, with real, live birds in it, who have no laundry to worry about at all.

Do you remember that last year a family of wrens made their nest in the flower basket outside our dining room window? Here's a picture of it:

Well, this year, some of their progeny, presumably, decided to return and raise their hatchlings on familiar territory. The pansies do have a lovely curb appeal, so I can't blame them. (And, yes, even though I can write all cool and collected about it here, I totally started jumping up and down and stage whispering, "The wrens came back! The wrens came back!" when I noticed.)

Like last year, we watched (sneakily, through the curtain) as Mama and Papa Wren built their lovely, little hobbit hole of a nest and laid and tended their eggs. When the eggs hatched, we listened to Mr. Wren's proud and gorgeous warbling and smiled at Mrs. Wren's cautious hops all around the basket to be sure no one was going to steal the bugs and worms she brought her babies.

Then one day, a hatchling--almost a fledgling at this point--hopped out of the nest. And we gasped. This thing was enormous. It was a full inch taller than its parents, with a wider beak, bigger eyes, and a very demanding squawk! of a cry. Suddenly a memory from 20 or so years ago popped into my mind, of a book I'd read then about a little girl who went to live with birds and was warned by her mentors about "the perfidious Mrs. Cowbird" who laid her eggs in other birds' nests....

Baby Cowbird

 Sure enough, the baby was a cowbird. Happily, Wren baby survived, and flew away a few days after its aggressive adopted sibling. (Wrens appear to be very good parents, as they were careful to shove past the bigger bird's gaping beak to feed the little one as well.)

Clearly, this is no delicate wren. In fact, doesn't he look like a grumpy old man?

Which left me to focus my energy on that old book memory. What was that book, anyway? I had no memory of title, character names, plotting... only that phrase: "the perfidious Mrs. Cowbird!" So I googled it. And thanks to modern technology, I found the blog of a homeschooling mother who had reviewed the book, which turned out to be called The Tune is in the Tree, and was written by one of my favorite authors, Maud Hart Lovelace (of Betsy-Tacy fame).

Then modern technology failed me...because after getting all excited, I couldn't find anywhere to buy the book unless I wanted to shell out over $200 on Amazon. It's been out of print since the 50's...my library system doesn't have a copy...and now I'm dying to read it but have no means of doing so. Anyone randomly have a copy they'd like to lend me?

So that's my nesting story. And now I will return to organizing my baby clothes. :)