Invisible Birds

After talking about it for months, Mom ordered a pair of woven grass roosting pockets from Publisher’s Clearinghouse.  She thought it would be fun to watch a bird build a nest inside one of them.

They arrived about six weeks ago and I hung one of them on the Palo Verde tree closest to the dining room window and the other on the Palo Verde near the street.

Bird Perch

We’ve been checking out the residency situation daily since I placed them in the trees.  Bill and I haven’t noticed anyone moving in.  Mom, on the other hand, has.

“You know,” she declared last week, “I think there’s a bird in the bird house.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, glancing out the window at the empty teardrop-shaped shelter swinging gently in the morning breeze.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I saw one looking out the hole.”

“Well that’s exciting,” I replied.  “Keep me posted.”

That evening, as Bill and I went outside to enjoy an adult beverage on the patio, I mention Mom’s discovery to Bill, who promptly walked over to the tree and carefully glanced into the opening of the bird house.

“Nope!” he called over to me.  “Nobody’s home.”

A couple of days later, Mom came into the Arizona Room where Bill and I were watching a morning news program.

“Morning,” I said, waving at her.

“Morning,” she replied.  “You know, there’s something in the bird place outside.”

“There is?”

“Yes, a bird.  But you can’t see it right now because it’s still sleeping.”

“Well then, I’ll check it out later,” I said.

“Okay, but don’t be surprised if you don’t see it.  It sleeps a lot.”

Yesterday, after she got up from her second afternoon nap, she parked the Red Menace in front of the dining room window.  “Patty, I think I see birds in both of the bird thingies,” she exclaimed.

I walked over to the window and stood next to her.  “Where?” I asked, squinting at the roosting pocket hanging from a branch in the Palo Verde nearest the house.  “The only bird I see is the hummingbird at the feeder.”

“No, not that bird.  It’s inside the house.  Just wait and it’ll poke its beak out.”

We waited, staring out the window for, what felt like hours but was probably only 30 seconds or so, before I turned away and walked back to the kitchen.  “Keep me posted,” I called over my shoulder.

“Wait, wait, there it is!” she shouted.  “Come see.”  I executed a sharp U-turn and returned to her side in front of the window.  “Where is it?” I asked, seeing only an empty hole.

“It’s a white spot inside the door.  No, wait, it went back in,” she shrugged.  “But it’s there,” she concluded, turning away from the window and motoring toward her loveseat.  “Just like the other one.  There’s a bird in that one too.”

Before dinner, I mention the bird situation to Bill.

“They’re still empty,” he said.  “I checked today when I was cleaning out the birdbath.  No birds.  No nests.  No feathers.  No nothin’.”

“Okay, that’s what I thought, but Mom’s convinced we’ve got birds.”

“Maybe we do except they’re invisible birds that only she can see.  That’s the best kind, as far as I’m concerned.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’t have to worry about cleaning up after them, emptying out used bird’s nests or tip-toeing around peeping baby birds.”

“You’re such a nature lover,” I laughed.

“Yup, especially invisible nature!”

ghost bird


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