Coo-Coo's Nest

Adam and I have never had a hanging plant on our front porch, but I've always wanted one. My neighbors always have them and I rock on my porch coveting their beauty. The pretty blooms cascading over the pot, making homes seem well taken care of and homey.

This year I was able to join the neighborhood hanging basket club. Adam came home with one on Easter. It not a flowering basket, it's just greens. He had used parts of it for decoration on the Easter buffet table and brought home what was left for me. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but I was happy none the less.

A few weeks went by and for days I noticed everytime I walked out on to my porch a freaking bird would fly out of my basket. No! I walked over to the plant as the bird sat on a telephone wire and shouted obscenities at me in squawk form. Sure enough, nestled deep inside my plant was a nest.

"Adam, I think a bird made a nest in my hanging plant," I whined, "come check. I'm afraid this crazy bird is going to peck my eyes out."

Adam came out and took down the basket, "There's six eggs in here."

"What?!" At first I was angry. I finally felt like my house fit in and wasn't the street's eye sore. I knew I wasn't going to be able to water the dang thing, and sure enough, within a week my fern had become quite brown.

I wanted to take it down, but I have to admit, Momma bird was pretty clever. All those inbred mangy cats couldn't get to them. So, I left it. Even though it made our house look extremely trashy. Who leaves a dead plant hanging on their front porch? This girl.

Lesson 70: having a dead hanging basket full of birds on your front porch for decoration = white trash

It has been rewarding, though. I was actually on my porch when they hatched. It was a very weird moment where I felt like I was in the delivery room of someone I hardly knew. I wanted to watch but didn't want to invade their privacy, then got weepy when I heard little peeps coming out of the nest.

Now, they are like my family. No, seriously, they are like my family. There are six babies shoved into a way too small nest and they all have personalities. The other day I watched them as the sun was setting. I had just put all my kids to bed, and so had Momma bird, and just like my kids who have a million excuses to be out of their rooms, one of the baby birds was perched on the side of the nest. The mommy bird sat on the telephone wire yelling at the baby, and the baby squawked back until the mom had to come and physically put him back to bed. I rocked in my chair, laughing, "Oh Momma, I know how you feel."

Lesson 71: talking out loud to a bird in a wilted plant, that none of your neighbors can see, so they think you've lost your mind and are talking to a dead weed = white trash

Luckily, the other day one of my neighbors commented on how my plant must not like the sun. I chuckled and said, "No, it likes the sun. It just needs more water and a lot less bird." Then I had her come over and check out my extended family. Peeking in the basket and seeing the six hungry babies with their mouths open, thinking I was going to upchuck some delicious worm chunks into their beaks, my neighbor said, "Six?! There is seriously something wrong with this street, even the wild life have too many kids!"

Lesson 72: Don't move to my street unless you are prepared to have at least a half a dozen kids like the rest of us :)

So, if you're bored, come on over and check out my birds. You'll know which house is mine by the decrepid plantlife hanging proudly on my porch.