The babies are about 8 days old (Volt is 9; Fil, Humphry, and Candy are 8, and Lumen is 7). Every morning I go out and greet them and their parents, who are usually nearby, check on them, and fill their food and water bowls. When it's really hot, Thomas especially enjoys dipping his head in the ice water. I love to see him appreciating it. Every day, there's more and more poop accumulating in the nest, and they're basically marinating in it. This morning, I found fresh poop on top of one of them and really wanted to clean it off. Nobody should have to exist under a pile of poop. I thought about pulling that one out and washing him off but decided that might do more harm than good, so I just plucked the poop out and wiped the bird very gently with a tissue. He thanked me. Here are before and after pictures:
In other happy bird news (I'm happier if I focus on what's happening in the animal world than the human world right now), there's a wren couple remodeling the nest in the bluebird box in our yard. Hoping to see a wren family growing there soon. I'll need something to fill the void when my finch babies fly away, which will be way too soon.
There's the wren, clearing out the detritus of her predecessors.
She seems like a Jenny to me. Jenny the wren.
Noah got up at 5:00 a.m. for his first day at his new job. He rode with someone I've never met and know nothing about to Champaign. Every time the phone rings, I'm vaguely concerned. Not freaking out or fixated with worry all day, but just a mild sense of unease because he's so far away with people I don't know. I know he's a full-grown man. Will I ever stop being concerned about him? I always helicopter-parented, so leaving the helicopter in the hangar is a new and slightly unsettling experience for me.
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