In many respects, last summer was the best summer of my adult life. The dry weather of El Nino kept the snow to a minimum, which meant an extra long summer vacation. The lack of rain allowed me maximum time in the field, and I set several personal bird-sighting records in my yard. But, there was one dark mark on that otherwise brilliant, shining summer. For the first time in a decade, the phoebes that nest by my front door failed to fledge any chicks. As disasters go, this may seem a trifling matter, but it was still quite sad for me.
When I first moved into my house, the phoebes had clearly made a go of nesting on top of the power box for a pair of floodlights that illuminate my driveway at night. It was also quite obvious that the man selling me the house had taken issue with the phoebes’ nesting site and had removed the nest. Once ownership of the house formally changed hands, I turned my attention to the phoebes. I wasn’t thrilled about the floodlight location either, but not because I didn’t want the birds around — I simply didn’t think it was sheltered enough.
I thought that a strategically placed nesting platform by my front door would offer a much better location. Completely sheltered from even the most horrendous storm, the nest was also tucked away in a spot that could be easily circumvented, if needed. So, a quick session with the miter saw produced the two pieces of wood I needed. Bing, bam, boom, and a nesting platform was installed. The phoebes moved in almost instantly.
Based on the behavior of one particular bird, I am convinced that the same female used the nest location for more than five years. She was very tolerant of people and was also very successful in rearing chicks to fledgling age. Then, one year there was a definite change in attitude. A new, more spirited female had replaced the old female, but things went on nicely, nonetheless. Last year, however, was a different story.
Another new female arrived, and from the onset, she ran into trouble. Brown-headed cowbirds found her nest, which happens from time to time, but there was a serious snag. In the process of removing a phoebe egg, the cowbird apparently broke two eggs. This resulted in the contents of one egg spilling into the lining of the nest and cementing all of the eggs in place. Without being able to turn the eggs, the developing young were going to run into trouble. Activity at the nest quickly ceased.
I cleared the contents of the nest, got rid of the crusty bottom layer of fine grasses, and hoped the female would try again. It took some time, but eventually a female phoebe did show up. Eggs were laid, incubated and eventually, chicks hatched. But fortune was not with this second nest either. One day, long before the chicks should have fledged, I found the nest empty. Raiders (most likely blue jays or grackles) had struck.
This year was altogether different. The phoebes arrived on time, got to sprucing up the nest quickly and, in no time, there were eggs in the nest. This particular clutch had 5 eggs, which worried me a little — only because of the amount of room five phoebe chicks might take up. The eggs were incubated during a very cold and rainy period, and then the eggs hatched into another cold and rainy period. Still, things were going perfectly, and time was passing quickly.
On the morning of Saturday, June 9, I peeked around the corner and found phoebe chicks staring back at me. The female arrived, perturbed beyond belief, and I remained only long enough to take a quick photo. When I examined the picture, I saw that all five chicks had survived, and I even commented in my journal that, “the phoebes will fledge either today or tomorrow.” I checked the nest on Sunday morning. It was empty.
Officially, summer has just started, but the birds have been at it for weeks. A second nesting by the phoebes is not unheard of, however, so I will keep my eyes on the nest. With any luck, I’ll find that little white eggs have mysteriously appeared while I wasn’t looking, and I’ll hear that distinctive chip of a perturbed phoebe, worried that I’ve discovered her secret.
Bill Danielson has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, and the Massachusetts State Parks. He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years and he also teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.