This summer on my balcony felt quite magical. A pair of hummingbirds discovered my Dollar Tree feeder and returned again and again for a drink. Mason bees and wasps settled into the little nest box I’d picked up at Goodwill. Hundreds of pesky flies met their untimely end inside the jaws of many a Venus flytrap. And then, as if it couldn't get any better, a pair of Carolina wrens chose to build their nest inside my rubber tree pot.
I was peering out my living room window in late July when I first spotted one of the parents swooping into the pot. After it flew off, I took a quick peek and noticed a large pile of pine needles, moss, and dead leaves behind a few of the lower leaves. I knew exactly what this meant: I would have limited use of my balcony for the next month.
But I didn't mind, because I had seen my carnivorous plants devour hordes of bugs over the years, so this was a minor sacrifice. All I had to do was spend 2-3 minutes filling the trays with distilled water, refreshing the hummingbird feeder with sugar water, and then back inside I'd quickly retreat.
They say that wrens like to nest near human structures for protection from predators. The parents were obviously aware of my comings and goings. There were a few occasions, though, when my timing was off, and they would scold me from the tree below if it coincided with them bringing in food for the babies. I learned the "coast was clear" in the afternoons after they had filled the young bellies in the early morning.
To document what was happening, I set up a trail camera opposite the plant pot. This would be my key to figuring out what stage the nest was taking. When the birds rarely flew in, that told me that the nest was completed. When they flew out with little white balls in their mouths, that told me that the babies were present and eating. Carolina wrens remove any excrement from the nest.
Luckily, I was able to capture a quick shot of the eggs before they hatched, and a short video of the babies resting inside before they fledged. I did this mostly out of fear that the parents had either abandoned the nest (wrens sometimes make multiple nests and choose the best one for that brood), or that the eggs had not hatched when two weeks had passed and I heard no noise. But, all was well. Like they say, nature knows best.
It was on the night of August 26, at precisely 7:30 p.m., that the babies left the nest. For a few days prior, I noticed the parents checking out different parts of the balcony—from the potting bench to other structures. It was as if they were making sure there were no dangerous places for newly fledged babies to fly into. That happened again that night, and I watched quietly from the living room window. Then, one of parents rested on the balcony railing for an abnormally long time. Twice I told myself, just get ready for bed. But I stayed there, and minutes later I noticed out of the corner of my eye a tiny puffball fluttering up against the window behind one of the plastic chairs. One of the babies had a first-timer misjudgment of distance, but it quickly recovered.
I rushed for my good camera and proceeded to video each of the babies through the balcony door window. My heart was pounding as I struggled to maintain focus in the low dusk light, and I was also worried that the newly fledged birds would jump off too soon, as my balcony is on the 4th floor. Or that they would injure themselves somehow. But they mostly popped about on the balcony floor or rested on the tops of plant stands and stacks of unused pots.
At one point something incredible happened, but I wasn't able to capture it on video as I was back in the living room at the time. A rock pigeon, which I knew had a nest two buildings over, came over to watch. And one of the hummingbirds swooped down to the floor to check out the commotion. It was as if they were aware of the miracle that was happening.
And then, within 15 minutes, they were gone. All four babies had taken a leap of faith and disappeared, one after the other. I carefully opened the balcony door to make sure no bird was left behind, then walked down the stairs and checked out the grassy area below. I didn't see or hear anything. By then it was dark, and I knew I'd have to trust nature.
Over the next few days, I discovered all four together under a drain pipe, then under cars, then on railings, and finally...in trees. And now, the rest is up to God. My job is done. I am so grateful that I stayed at that window that night or I would have missed everything.
Enjoy this three-minute video below:
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