I love nature, I do. I live in a place that’s pure suburbia, but surrounded by woods. We have all sorts of regular wildlife making our yard, and the surrounding environs, home. Squirrels, racoons, rabbits, deer are all regulars. I had a coyote stop by my yard a few weeks ago. (That was a bit of a shocker since it was 10 in the morning, but s/he was a gorgeous thing, and the dogs were in the house so I simply admired it from 20 feet away.) We also have more varieties of birds than I can count. They love to nest in our trees, use our bird bath and, in the case of the hummingbirds, wage constant war over my flowers.
The trouble is, I have two terriers. NBKs. Natural Born Killers. Complicating matters is that bird-brain is a saying borne out of reality. Chickadees, in particular, seem…well, let’s just say they won’t be wining the Nobel Prize for science any time in the next million years. For whatever reason, these birds love to build nests where they shouldn’t. In my flower pots (where their eggs are soaked with cold water every other day even though I try to avoid watering the nest), in low azalea bushes and, this year…
I ask you, is this the face of a murderer?
I saw the birds coming and going, foolishly hoped they weren’t really building a nest on the ground. Newp. The baby birds must have hatched today, because for more than a week, Ziggy has trotted right by the activity without twitching a nostril. But today, like a cartoon terrier stopping in its tracks, body all a-quiver, he stuck his nose right in the groundcover and hauled out the nest, spilling baby birds as he ran. Before I could stop him, one was…shall we say, unrecognizable when he spit it out. The other two were face down on the grass. Ziggy wasn’t eager to surrender his prize but I managed to cover the (possibly alive) hatchlings with the lid of my hose container and get him into the house. By the time I got back to check on the stranded ones…OH, NATURE! YOU CRUEL MISTRESS!
Of course, Ziggy was acting in his nature, too. I don’t fault him, I just wish he wasn’t presented with the opportunity. Every. Single. Summer. It leaves me nauseous every time.
Okay…so maybe he’s…sort of…SQUIRREL!