Birds in the honeysuckle

I forgot that I forgot to close the study window last night, so when I woke I thought a bird had flown inside. His singing filled the house. Birds sometimes enter my parents' house near Sisters when my parents are away; when they return they find feathers and poop and, once, a hard, tiny body.

But no, the bird had not flown inside. He was outside the study window. I found him perched on a limb of the ponderosa which drops so many dead needles onto my roof. Talking talking talking, that little finch, the same phrase over and over. Every so often the female, who sat on the nest they'd built in the honeysuckle, would call back to him.

I imagine the female was saying, "Do be quiet! Everyone knows you're going to be a father!"

The nest is so close to the house that I can't see it from inside, so after awhile I stepped onto the porch to see her better. I startled her, though, and she flew away.

*

For a few weeks after giving birth for the first time, I felt a kinship with all mothers -- all mothers, human or not. It was very strange. I felt like they were my sisters; I felt like I knew what they were going through (pigs suckling half a dozen babies! ow ow ow!), and also that I could learn from watching their parenting.

I don't feel that way anymore .. but it does please me that those two finches have chosen to give birth at my house. I can't wait to see the babies.