Chosen at Last!

Several years ago, we planted seeds for birdhouse gourds in the far-right corner of our backyard. The vines grew and climbed up the tall support structure my husband erected for them. At dusk, he went out with a Q-tip and dabbed from one white blossom to another to cross-pollinate them—in case the sphinx moth didn’t get around to doing it. It was exciting when tiny gourds began to form!

After the first freeze of the winter, they were harvested. It took about three months for the gourds to dry. They became lightweight, and you could hear seeds rattling inside if you shook them. The following spring, Lloyd cut an entry hole in them sized just right for wrens or chickadees.

For several years, we hung one of these birdhouse gourds in the backyard . . . but there were no takers. Nevertheless, their lovely shape was a joy to behold.

In places where people have large open areas, we have seen multiple birdhouse gourds hung to house communities of purple martins. What a fairytale site!

When our home-grown birdhouse gourds deteriorated, we purchased a plastic one at a local garden show.

We hung it again this spring in the lilacs . . . thinking it would amount to nothing more than a garden ornament.

Can you fathom our delight when we saw “something” fly out of the gourd and zip into the nearby walnut tree? Was it a wren

It wasn’t long before we determined that the white gourd’s renters were chickadees!

Positioning myself on the back deck one sunny afternoon, I timed the devoted parents’ feeding intervals to about every four minutes.

It wouldn’t be long before the fledglings would be peering out of the entryway, one at a time, sizing up the outside world and getting ready for takeoff!

One afternoon while sitting on the deck to see what was going on in our little patch of Kitchener, my husband pointed to the rock pond where a chickadee had alighted on its rim.

Be refreshed as you watch the video of a chickadee bathing! Click the PLAY buttom bottom left.

I wonder if he was hatched within that beautiful gourd . . . the gourd that was chosen at last?

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