Nesting
As our son, Gavin reached the age of six months, it was time for Allison and me to give him his very own room. A sanctuary where he could sleep, play, and grow under our watchful eyes. Another milestone in his early development! Little did we know that as we assembled his crib and decorated the room, a captivating natural spectacle would unfold.
Amongst the branches of a pine tree just outside the window, a rufous hummingbird (Selasphorus rufus) was building a nursery of her own. If she was tired from her long migration north, she didn’t show it! This vibrant creature tirelessly shuttled back and forth, with delicate materials clutched in her beak. Moss, plant fibers, spider webs, and feathers were meticulously woven together to construct a minuscule abode. Every addition was precisely placed, gently padded down, and meticulously shaped to cradle the tiny bird’s body. Gavin and I watched in awe, captivated by this extraordinary effort.
After a week of construction, however, the weather changed. As the wind picked up and rain clouds gathered, our little friend’s nest swayed precariously. Initially, she seemed undeterred, but the Bay Area was about to experience a historic storm. Back-to-back atmospheric rivers brought a deluge of rain, and as the pine tree rocked in the gale, our hummingbird was nowhere to be seen. We hunkered down, hoping she’d found a nice, dry place to wait out the weather, and waited anxiously to see if she would return.
Days later, when the tempest finally subsided and the sun emerged from behind the clouds, it became clear that the nest had been abandoned. Its survival through the relentless storm was a testament to the ingenuity of hummingbird engineering, but our resilient architect had likely journeyed north, seeking shelter in a warmer territory to raise her chicks.
Spring, however, arrived with its customary fanfare, and flowers bloomed around us. Anna’s hummingbirds (Calypte anna) graced our balcony. And ducklings mastered the art of swimming in the nearby pond. New life flourished everywhere, and the story of our pine tree was far from over.
Up in the penthouse, a raucous family of crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) moved in, skillfully constructing their nest while defending their territory from a vigilant red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus). And then, a few weeks later, a delightful surprise awaited. Signs of activity around the abandoned hummingbird nest hinted at recycling efforts. Gavin and I kept a watchful eye, and soon, our observation bore fruit. House finches (Haemorhous mexicanus) emerged as the culprits, engaged in the construction of their own nest, cleverly hidden among a clump of nearby pine cones.
The female worked tirelessly while her male counterpart hovered beside her, seemingly unsure of his role. I remembered the feeling from Allison’s pregnancy. When she began sitting in the nest for long periods, I decided to respect the family’s privacy and allow nature to unfold undisturbed.
According to National Geographic, the mere presence of nature, even the proximity of a backyard tree, can alleviate stress and improve health. Those lucky enough to see trees or grass from their window have been shown to recover from illness faster and perform better in school. As for Gavin, his lessons may not have been academic this spring, but he’s learning to flap his wings at 70 beats per second, and we consider ourselves immensely fortunate to witness nature unfolding right outside his nursery window.
Resources:
Call to the Wild: This Is Your Brain on Nature by Florence Williams, National Geographic
