Baby bird

A couple days ago, as we sat outside in the evening, we noticed a small bird flitting down to the ground repeatedly under the big pine tree in our backyard. Looking more closely, I saw a tiny bit of a baby bird trying to move through the grass. Fallen out of the nest?

I got a small table and a cardboard box to put it in, so it could be safe from dogs. I carefully avoided touching it. We didn’t see if the parent bird found it.

I went out the next morning, saw a blue-gray lump under one of the leaves, and fully expected it to be dead. I gently touched it with a leaf, and it jumped up and flitted to the other side of the box, making as much noise as it possibly could.

In the afternoon it was gone. We looked all around in the yard with no luck. No sign of anything. In the evening, again sitting in the backyard, we noticed the dog jump back from under the lemon tree as something abruptly moved. Guess who?

So back in the box. Parent bird located it. I watched the parent bird fly out of the box into the lemon tree, followed by a little grayish blur. The light was fading, but the little one had definitely left the box. Again.

No sign of it this morning. Until…

…after working a bit on the barbacoa ceiling, Daniel came into my office, hands cupped together holding – you guessed it. The baby bird had somehow gotten onto the barbacoa roof and then fell off.

So again into the box on the little table near the lemon tree. Little guy was having none of that. Out!

“Don’t even think about it again, human!”

So there he is, hanging out in the lemon tree, a tiny fluff ball, able to fly level a few meters and to get to a higher spot in the tree. Quite the feisty thing. Now I don’t know if he fell out of the nest to begin with, or not. Might have just decided to go for it?

I haven’t gotten a close enough look at the padre to ID the type.

Photos: Daniel Silva

Birds were here.

Concrete stepping-stone in local park.

Clever Horneros

At a beach entrance in Marindia, you can find one of the ubiquitous mud Hornero nests. Hornero means baker, and they are so named because their nests look like traditional mud ovens.

You know, like this. (Photo source)

But if some humans want to help and provide a ready-made solar-panel roof, well, so much the better.

The entrance to the nest faces the beach (ESE). I was told once that the birds build their nests with the opening facing east for the morning sun, but I have seen them facing several directions. The same person told me that was because they have become disoriented since the advent of cell towers.

Hornero nests

The immense pine tree that I’ve been expecting to fall in every storm of the past eleven years. Not one, but two hornero nests – bottom branch and stub of a branch below it.

Tero teros

Southern Lapwings (Tero Comun, Vanellus chilensis)

Company not wanted

Stork says, “That’s close enough for you, buddy.”

Horneros tending to their mud nest

Maguari stork

Maguari stork (Ciconia maguari) and ducks

Its presence upsets the teros (Southern lapwing – Vanellus chilensis), but it clearly has no attention of going anywhere. They were hassling it when I arrived, and still an hour later.

Robins like paltas

In previous years, we thought it was a comedreja (possum) eating our avocados. Nope – this year it’s birds. As you can see they’re doing a fine job. I must say, though, unlike some other birds, they are very thorough. Nothing goes to waste.

So I guess if the birds are happy, I am as well.

Tag: birds