Where’s the bunny? #wordlesswednesday

Do you see my bunny friend hiding in the foliage?

Surrounded by Silver Shield, Pride of Madeira, Jade, and whatever random ground cover I can propagate, my bun managed to shelter himself perfectly within their protection.

#wordlessWednesday

The Unseen

It’s been a long while since the gardens at Casa de Enchanted Seashells were honored by the presence of a four-legged child. When we had a completely empty nest, there was supposed to be a lot of travel and other fun but that didn’t really happen, at least not in the way I had happily anticipated.

This was my beloved Bandit…Bandit in a box

…and my beautiful Border Collie boy –Victor at age sixteen, enjoying his senior years at what was to be his last Christmas before crossing over the Rainbow Bridge, sitting in the place of honor because he deserved it.

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Lately, something odd and mysterious has been going on here.  I’ve discovered tennis balls and other toys that simply seem to randomly appear out of nowhere, some even in the middle of the lawn, as if a game of fetch was still in progress.

See?

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There’s a monogamous pair of coyotes that visit me on a regular basis and I have a wildlife camera set up to record their activities, so I know the balls don’t come from them, although that’d be super cool if they were bringing me gifts to thank me for my vocal support regarding coexistence with wildlife, instead of vilifying and murdering them.

But…

My yard is completely fenced in–not that coyotes care about that–but to emphasize the fact that a normal domestic dog roaming the neighborhood couldn’t possibly find a way in, and certainly not with a ball in his or her mouth.

I like to think it’s the spirit of my Victor sending me a gigantic message that he’s still chasing tennis balls and he’s up there with Sabrina and Stella Rondo and Beowulf and Tovah and Bandit and Misty and Tawny and Blackie, all my beautiful children who were so very loved and cherished during their lifetimes and beyond.

Here’s my most special part wolf, Beowulf, and a MUCH younger me.

I was part of a covert rescue operation and bottlefed him every two hours. I was his mom and he was my perfect boy. We were inseparable. Soul mates.

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Yup, I really do miss them all so very much.

But where do the balls really come from?

“The Sparrow” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

I love this little bird. It really seems like he likes to follow me around so I started to follow him and snap pics everywhere he hopped.  A special little friend for sure.

The Sparrow

A little bird, with plumage brown,
Beside my window flutters down,
A moment chirps its little strain,
Ten taps upon my window–pane,
And chirps again, and hops along,
To call my notice to its song;
But I work on, nor heed its lay,
Till, in neglect, it flies away.
So birds of peace and hope and love
Come fluttering earthward from above,
To settle on life’s window–sills,
And ease our load of earthly ills;
But we, in traffic’s rush and din
Too deep engaged to let them in,
With deadened heart and sense plod on,
Nor know our loss till they are gone.
Paul Laurence Dunbar – 1872-1906

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Home Sweet Home

In quarantine? Isolation? Distancing?

Happy to have a home to go home to, no matter what it looks like, that’s the message I’m getting from this little bird, being grateful for what we have.

Every spring, for years and years, this dedicated vireo mom builds and rebuilds her home in my garden. If I count them all up, I’ve been grandma to approximately one hundred babies.

As you can see, her home looks a bit shabby. It really needs to be repainted and I attempted to fix the bottom with string because it was starting to fall apart. I’m not much of a handyman (woman) but it’s OK for now.

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Going home

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Checking out the view

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Breakfast is ready!

Three Little Birds

This is one of my absolute favorite Bob Marley tunes, check out the video below.

“Don’t worry about a thing, ‘cos every little thing’s gonna be all right.”

You know how sometimes you hear a song that’s the perfect song for how you’re feeling, and whether it’s a coincidence or a sign or a message, you feel its uplifting energy? That’s this one.

This is my mantra for today: “Don’t worry about a thing, ‘cos every little thing’s gonna be all right.”

And then I took my camera outside to see what beauty nature could inspire me to feel gratitude and peace and this lovely little brown bird followed me around for a while.

“This is my message to you.”

Got it. Message received loud and clear. Breathe.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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Yummy Hummy Mummy Update: Abandonment

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What kind of mother abandons her babies?

This isn’t how I wanted the story to end.

I like stories that end in happiness and joy, and now I have no idea what went wrong, what happened.

Is there something I could have done? I would have helped her; I’m a fixer, I like to take care of animals. And people.

Mom built a great nest, laid one egg, and I kept waiting for the next one but it never came. For a while, all was good, she sat on the nest daily and I made sure that I didn’t bother her just in case she liked privacy.

Mom hasn’t been around for about three days. The one little egg is still in the nest. I’m sure it’s not viable at this point. I wonder why she disappeared. Did she get attacked by a predator? Did her instincts tell her that there was something wrong with the egg and it shouldn’t be born?

We’ll never know, but it triggered my own issues with abandonment and not having answers to painful experiences or not being able to render aid.

It’s not natural for mothers of any species to abandon their children. It goes against all the laws of nature and psychology and maternal bonding. Sadly, in humans, abandonment leaves the children to deal with “mother wounds”; significant emotional, mental and psychological aftereffects.

However, on the bright side (which is where I like to live), there’s a Vireo successfully nesting; she comes back every single year. So far, she’s had about one hundred babies born out of the same little seashell bird house nestled in the ficus tree.

Update: Yummy Hummy Mummy; an egg appears!

April 26, 2020

Hummingbirds typically lay two eggs; jellybean ovals of white porcelain perfection, and so far I see the first one!

To give you a size comparison, most hummingbird nests are 1.5 – 2 inches in diameter, roughly the size of a ping pong ball.

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Stars, Meteors, Mockingbirds, and Mozart

It’s so quiet at night.

I love silence.

I love not hearing cars, sirens, air compressors, grinders, belt sanders, and the cacophony of other human discord.

What I love hearing at night is the song of a coyote, the hoot of a Great-Horned Owl, and listening to my thoughts.

Since there’s been less human activity since the GREAT PANDEMIC OF 2020, I’ve come to enjoy the sounds of silence in my neighborhood.

Before I go to bed, I sit outside in total darkness on the deck. I look up at the sky and think about a poem I wrote in college about Orion; I guess I’ve always been drawn to the night.

This week, there were Lyrid meteor showers and even fireballs, but I missed them all. Still, it’s comforting knowing that they happened, even if I didn’t get to personally witness any.

Lately, there’s a new and beautiful addition to the songdogs and the owls.

It’s one of the only birds that sings at night in my area, the Northern Mockingbird.

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This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
IzzyMPhotography

The northern mockingbird is a world-famous singer, considered finer even than the famous nightingale of Europe.

The male sings a medley of songs belonging to other birds, repeating each phrase several times before moving on to the next. 

Most songbirds learn all the songs they’ll ever sing before they’re a year old. 

He learns the songs of other birds and incorporates them into his own songs. Mockingbirds also sometimes “sing” the sounds of people whistling, frogs croaking, and doorbells ringing.

Although all adult male mockingbirds sing during the day, only a bachelor sings at night.

Their night music is a beautiful love song. As soon as the mockingbird finds a mate, he stops singing at night. And that’s how we’ll know. 

FYI: the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 makes it illegal to kill, harm, or harass the mockingbird (and other migratory birds).
From:http://www.birdwatching.com/stories/mockingbird.html

And then I started thinking about other types of beautiful music, like A little Night Music  by Mozart (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik), Eine kleine Nachtmusik (Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major), K. 525, is a 1787 composition for a chamber ensemble by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The German title means “a little serenade,” though it is often rendered more literally but less accurately as “a little night music.” The work is written for an ensemble of two violins, viola, and cello with optional double bass, but is often performed by string orchestras.

 

And finally, some Rumi:

Close the door of words
that the window of your heart may open.
To see what cannot be seen
turn your eyes inward
and listen, in silence.

No more empty nest for me…mommy hummingbird is hard at work!

It’s been five long years since I’ve been lucky enough to be chosen by a hummingbird as a sanctuary site to build her nest on one of my windchimes.

The last time it was built on hummingbird chimes (very witty, mama hummy, very witty) and this time it’s butterfly chimes, but in the same exact location right outside the kitchen window.

Mama works pretty much around the clock bringing feathers and spider webs and other soft little bits and pieces glued together with her own birdy poop.

I’ll update as the nest grows and mom lays her two precious eggs:

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Hummingbird posts from 2015:

https://enchantedseashells.com/2015/05/02/yummy-hummy-mummy/

https://enchantedseashells.com/2015/05/08/its-raining-in-southern-california/

https://enchantedseashells.com/2015/05/20/a-mothers-love-wordlesswednesday/

https://enchantedseashells.com/2015/06/01/empty-nest-disaster/

 

The Journey of a Feather

After our week-long rainstorm, it was sunny and warm; a perfect time to pick weeds and do some heavy lifting in the garden.

Picture this: Our backyard can be divided into threes. There’s the level part with a lawn, and then there are twenty-eight steps that lead to the first hill, with more winding steps that ascend to the summit.

I took a break, eating a tangerine while I sat at the top of the mid-steps. From this vantage point, I could survey the entire level of the garden below. Birds were singing, butterflies were fluttering around in the soft breeze, and my eye caught the progression of something floating down from the palm trees in the neighbor’s yard to land on my lawn.

What was it?

I ran down and found a soft and beautiful hawk feather. It almost seemed to glow in the early morning light.

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What a joyous treasure, don’t you think?

According to Native Americans, a feather from a hawk symbolizes guardianship, strength, and far-sightedness. Another meaning : You are being asked to listen to the advice that friends and family are giving you. The messages you are receiving about the decision you must make is correct and only comes from love. Allow yourself to let go of the control and surrender. I like this one, too: Your life is taking a turn that will lead you on the path to happiness, joy, success, and love.

Hmmm, that certainly gives me something to think about, you know?

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