A Potpourri of Nests--Part 2

Our local birds construct six different types of nests:

1.    No nest—the whippoorwill and turkey (see photo below).

2.    Cup nest (a coarse outer shell of twigs, lined with soft material)—the hummingbird, crow, jay, Louisiana water thrush, wood thrush, and cardinal.

3.    Mud nest (an adobe-like base that is glued to some sturdy object)—the robin and phoebe.

4.    Tree hole—the woodpecker; followed in subsequent years by smaller woodpecker, nuthatch, titmouse, wren, and bluebird.

5.    Second hand (adapting a previously used nest)—the mourning dove.

6.    In or on manmade structures (including manmade nesting boxes)—the phoebe, Caroline wren, robin, and bluebird.

For many of our birds, the key (as is true for human real estate agents) is location, location, location. Their instincts and learned skills drive their choice of location, but they have little way of knowing what the future may bring. I’ve watched successful broods raised in what appeared to me to be foolish and risky sites. I’ve also watched what seem to be cleverly-located nests that get raided by snakes and other predators. In an attempt to thwart predation, some small songbirds will even nest among raptors for protection, in an attempt to ward off nest raids.

It required a few years of watching, before I understood the nest-construction tricks of the Carolina wren—an especially cunning nest builder. In the spring I have watched a wren hastily throw together some leaves and twigs in an isolated corner (usually under the eaves of a structure I’ve built), thinking I’m seeing its nest being fashioned. A day or two later, I see no more activity, and wonder what happened. Certainly, a predator didn’t already invade. Then I read that the male will construct several “dummy” nests, after which he will escort his mate around to visit the various sites. She will select the one that tickles her fancy and then finish it off. Such a scheme can also confuse a predator, who may be duped into going after an empty nest.

The bird that impresses me most of all in its nest building, however, is the phoebe. To begin with, it always builds under the eaves of our house or an outbuilding, so its nest is rather obvious to us. Even though it’s not a tame bird, the phoebe seems to be quite content to raise its broods right above the doorway. Because their nest may be built against the rafters or under sloping eaves, these can be precarious perches, so the nest must be solidly fastened. They build a strong base of mud pellets, grass, moss, hair, feathers, and phoebe poop—that is cemented in place.

I like to imagine the phoebe to be this deliberate, accomplished carpenter, who carefully examines his selected foundation, and then computes just the right mixture of ingredients, to withstand the rigors of weather and the bouncing movements of family members. Sometimes during the following winter, after the phoebes have flown to the warmth of Central America, I will see a nest come loose and fall, but never during the brooding season. What skill!