All was quiet around Cedar Hollow today, too quiet. When I did some weeding and dead-heading, there was no action around the Swiss Chalet. I turned off the falls to listen. No cheeping for food.
The winds chased white clouds across the blue sky, and waved the black walnut tree’s boughs back and forth.
There was no use asking the tired little fisher boy if he knew where the wrens were. He was fast asleep.
During an afternoon break on the swing, the garden clock’s hands moved along ten minutes, 15, 20, with still no flash of brown wings to be seen.
After supper, Mr. McD and I spent some time on the swing, with the camera at the ready. Judging by the fairly wide beak of little Duke Wren the 1st, I thought it would be another whole week before their departure.
The previous overnight temperatures were so low that Mr. McD and I hauled out our winter sleepwear and turned on the furnace. Did the little wrens perhaps die of pneumonia? Did a cat catch their parents? Oh such dreadful thoughts.
But then, remembering back to the baby cardinals last year, they left the nest just wearing blue pin feathers! We couldn’t believe they were ready, but leave it they did.
Let’s think positively now. Last night, both Lord and Lady Wren were making trips to the nest at an accelerated pace – it seemed to be every few minutes. They must have been preparing the youngsters for flight tests they planned to hold at the crack of dawn.
Bounce the Hummer came by and sat on the clothesline for several minutes, which was most unusual for him to do.
Why didn’t I ask him how many there were? Was it he, she, or they who graduated from Cedar Hollow’s flight school? Just look at its impeccable runways!
And so concludes the tale of . . . A Summer at Cedar Hollow.
(Hopefully, in the future, this little tale will be available in e-book form and paperback. Now I’ll go back to what I was supposed to be doing in the first place . . . blog on the progress of my current painting, THE BLAIR STONE ARCH. Stay tuned.)