Steve and Lady

We live on re-claimed land that was stolen from the teeming wildlife that used to live here. It was farmland, yes, but clearly there were lots of other creatures sharing the pastures and fields. And they're none too happy that suddenly we're here instead.

Bunnies, specifically, roam the neighbourhood in hoards when the sun goes down, pooping coco-puffs here there and everywhere in retaliation for the invasion. And they're really good at it, the protest poops.

So because of them and Freddie the Vole (who we thankfully haven't seen around yet this spring) we had to take down the bird feeder that I enjoyed so much last year.

Feeding the birds is fine, but feeding the bunnies, voles and other varmints is, sadly, out of the question. I'm not big on wild poo. I'm not big on any poo, but especially not wild poo from animals of unknown origin and questionable health.

So instead of the feeder, I bought a birdhouse. A real one (and by real I mean hardware store "cheap" as opposed to home decor store decorative/expensive). It's a cedar wren house - just cute as a button.

I put it up Monday night, expecting it to sit vacant until it disintegrated (being $15.00 and all).

But to my surprise, a pair of Tree Swallows moved in the next day.

It's been an emotionally difficult week for me for a number of reasons I don't feel like getting into right now, but the one bright spot has been those cheeky little birds. I've been watching them swoop around the yard like they own the place for two days now, and I'm loving it.

The affection isn't quite reciprocal yet though. Steve (yes, we named them) is fine. He sits on the fence looking strikingly beautiful in his iridescent blue overcoat waiting to be admired (from a respectable distance, mind you). But Lady, not so much. She's a wee bit more territorial, opting to dive-bomb the innocent (me) if I dare step into her domain - which, apparently, encompasses the entire yard.

It could be she's just pissed off by the fact that she's doing all the nest-building work while Steve sits around waiting to be admired. That would certainly piss me off. But I suspect my presence is more the issue.

I have no idea how I'm going to plant my angel garden. I foolishly hung the birdhouse on a shepherd's hook right beside it, and I have no clue how Lady is going to feel about me landscaping her front porch.

I feel an I Love Lucy moment in the making...

I'm hoping that she'll be busy sitting on her eggs by the time it warms up enough to start my planting (hopefully next week) and won't care what I'm doing.

I'll settle for an uneasy peace and respectable distances between us. Really, I will.

If only she'll stay.