OK. Back one last time (I promise) to that lovely, downy chickadee nest inside my bluebird box. After watching the phoebes on the front porch go through the whole process, and especially those latter stages where you wonder how the three chicks can still fit inside the nest, I have to say one more thing about that chickadee nest. It was–and still is–clean. Once or twice I saw the parents fly out of the box with a bill-full of baby poop, and thanks that kind of devotion, the nest and the inside of the box remain pristine.

But by the time those little phoebes had fledged, whoa! It was just a world of bird dookey out there on the front porch. Once we were sure the birds were gone, Dede had to get out the Lysol and swab the place down.

I mention it because–you guessed it–the phoebes are back with nest number two. And the way the mama bird is sitting tight even when we’re on the porch, my guess is that the eggs are about to hatch. Not that we’re complaining. Actually, the more we have them around, the more I appreciate these skillful little flycatchers with their twitchy tails.

They get no credit for gaudy plumage, but I like the way they look, especially in the evening when their pale underside takes on a kind of incandescence in contrast to their otherwise dark bodies. And when it’s time to feed those babies, I see them out on the low fence that keeps the dogs out of the garden, busily harvesting the insect pests that would otherwise defoliate my peppers and cucumbers.

As much as anything I love that hoarse little cry: phoebe, phoebe, phoebe–one of the first signs of spring in these parts. James Russell Lowell nailed it, I think:

Phoebe is all it has to say

In plaintive cadence o’er and o’er,

Like children that have lost their way

And know their names, but nothing more.

Chances are this second brood will do it for this year. As the hot weather arrives, the phoebes tend to head into the deeper woods, where, in fact, they lead solitary lives, not even socializing with one another.

They will be missed, but even as we clean up the second round of dookey, we’ll take consolation in knowing we helped them multiply.