The
roofline of my house has a bit of a twist to it.
While
that statement is actually true enough, I suppose if I want to
really describe it, I’d have to swap in some other adjectives
and words to replace twist. The roof has some separations and
levels. There’s a bit of a sweeping segment that extends out over
the front door. And, in one place, the gutters bend around a corner
and disappear under the angled edge of one of those separations
of level.
It
is that covered bit, a hidden nook created by the gutter and a
roof edge, that launches our thoughts today.
Bird
built a nest in it.
Now,
yes, I could have cleared the bird and the nest out. But that’s
not the way I like to interact with nature. (I also didn’t want
to open the garage door, get a ladder out, address the nest and
then put the ladder away.)
The
bird isn’t bothering me, is nice to have around, and I’m not going
to interfere. Bird chose an end of the gutter, and not the end
that has a downspout. An end under the eave and not really catching
rainwater, so the nest isn’t blocking anything. If, when it does
rain, the nest ends up with some water approaching it, that’s
not on me.
I
want to meander into why the bird even selected the gutter.
I
absolutely get it, as it is a great spot. Gutter creates a nicely
formed and solid foundation for the nest. Good start there. The
positioning, with the roof angled overhead and wall of the house
on one side, means really decent protection in general and terrific
sightlines for safety. So…
Instead,
why hasn’t this been a hotspot for bird nests in any previous
years? In fact, this year, another pair of birds has built a nest
in a wreath on the front door. Wreaths have been on the door,
year-round, as far back as I can remember.
Why
this year?
And
it’s not just birds.
Consider
some bees. Why the eave above the back garage door one year, inside
the shed another year, inside a bush yet another year, and even,
literally, underground along a portion of the chain link fence
in still another year?
Beyond
simple random results, what creates a scenario where the birds
settle in one year in one spot and then never select that spot
again? They’re using the birdhouses to build nests every year.
Why not the gutter?
When
we moved into this house, the mailbox was at the end of the driveway,
slightly off to the side and against the edge of the road. Someone
long before we moved in had placed it there. Eventually the wooden
post snapped and I needed replace it. Ended up moving it to the
other side of the driveway and using a metal pole. Felt a bit
off for a week or so, but now it seems like it’s always been there.
I get why it’s at the end of the driveway, but have no idea why
the right side or the left side needs to be chosen. Seems like
an equal either/or scenario.
But
there’s the bird, in the nest, set up in the gutter, out of the
way of falling rain thanks to the edge of the roof above, with
tremendous views. This isn’t setting up a mailbox of a choice,
it feels like an obvious option.
Migrating
birds seem to be able to work out something not too far short
of miraculous. Some can sense variations in the season that set
them off on their journeys earlier or later to avoid weather patterns
our years of study and advanced technology can’t predict. But
a sweet spot nestled under the eave of the roof? That needs to
be stumbled across, apparently.
Of
course, maybe this isn’t an accident and I’m the one missing something,
even with my advanced technology and observation skills. Maybe
there are differences between selecting a birdhouse and selecting
a gutter.
If
I knew where the bees were headed every year, there’s a good chance
I’d make it harder for them to get started in a spot that inconvenienced
me. (Not near the front door or primary walkways on my watch.)
They keep moving around, and unless I’m out there every minute
of every day, a hive is being built before I’m even aware the
location has been chosen.
We
joke around with slogans—like location, location, location—and
yet might be missing the element of surprise when it comes to
survival tactics and the selection process. (Or something else,
entirely more important.) Until I figure it out, and then decide
whether or not it matters to me, I’m just going to tip my cap
and say hello to the birds. Hopefully, it doesn’t rain.