Your Saturday morning kitties

It's not the best picture I've ever taken--it's kind of fuzzy and Spanky's fur is all blown out--but the cuddliness here just gets me every time I look at it. Dem's ma kittehs.


Sorry for the cute overload. I couldn't help myself.

The Northwest Flicker of E Street

This morning I was awakened by the sound of a Northwest Flicker hammering on wood somewhere west of my building. It's a staccato drumming, and if one didn't know better, one would think it was an artificial, manmade sound. It made me both happy and sad.

Let me start from the beginning.

A month or so back, maybe more, I began to hear that staccato hammering on the metal covering at the top of my chimney like a soprano jackhammer echoing down a pipe. I'd heard it before and didn't really think about it. Then I began to notice a Northwest Flicker hanging around on the neighbor's roof. They're handsome birds with their striped wings, spotted breasts and flashy red bibs, and I was delighted to see it. At the time I didn't make any connections between the hammering and the bird, though if I'd been really paying attention, I should have.

About a week, maybe a week and a half ago, I noticed that Sophie was spending more than the usual amount of time perched on the living room window sill. Finally, I got curious and looked out the window. There, perched at a hole on an exterior wall of my building was a flicker. Beneath him along the line where the roof met the wall, a flurry of insulation was gathered, clearly stuff the bird had pulled from the hole. It looked as though he'd pried off a vent cover and pecked the vent hole large enough so he could crawl inside.

I had a moment of "Wow! Look at that healthy, handsome fellow!" immediately followed by "F*ck, there's a bird nesting in our attic." I immediately went to work with the condo board to get someone out here to eradicate the squatter.

But while I was waiting for National Bird Control to come and evict our new housemate, I enjoyed getting up in the morning and visiting him. Each day I'd find him sitting just inside the hole, his head poking out surveying the neighborhood. If I didn't open the window, he'd sit there placidly. If I made any sudden movements, he'd fly away. Sometimes, later in the day, I'd find him perched at the edge of the hole, as in the picture.

Yesterday, National Bird came, rousted the flicker, and checked for eggs (there were none). They sprayed taste deterrent on the wood around the hole and all the vents along that area. They screened up all the vents, and then hung a scare-eye balloon to keep the bird from returning.

So this morning, when I woke to hear the hammering of a flicker off in the distance, I knew my outlaw neighbor had fled. While, as a homeowner, I'm glad he's gone, I'm sad he's gone as well, because I'd enjoyed seeing him each morning, enjoying his penthouse view. I'm grateful I had a week or so of his company even if he was an invader. Maybe it's remnant guilt from the trimming of the big tree. But I'm sure he'll find somewhere else to nest. I hope it's a less invasive, more reliable location.