I am long overdue for talking about the fledging of the woodlets, which happened on Wednesday May 28th and which I, we, both Hugh and I, missed. I have meant to post about it ever since but time is at a premium; let it suffice to say that they were there that morning and then gone by evening. Damnation! I REALLY WANT TO SEE THE WOODLETS LEAVE THE NEST ONE OF THESE YEARS. Anyway, since then, we have seen Woodie forlornly—or so we thought!—hanging about the tree every day, checking the nest hole, going to the birdfeeder outside the bathroom window, and so on, sadly casting about for activities to fill his empty days, now that there are no woodlets to feed.
But yesterday, Sunday, as we sat inside working and movie-watching, Hugh suddenly gave a shout-out that there were two birds over on the Woodie tree, and what was going on? It turned out that one of the woodlets came back home, and there was fighting. The parent bird was chasing the little one away from the tree! He swooped at him and pecked his head! We don't know for certain that it was actually the dad's young...but highly likely, I think. Birds are very cruel, very cruel. Don't these photos just break your heart?
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