LOST OR SAVED?

I never am quite sure what to do with wildlife that I think may be in danger.  Are they all right? Should I intervene?  Will I make things worse or better?  

I encountered the question again this week, and decided I should give a helping hand.   A baby Ruby-throated Hummingbird was sitting completely lax on the hot blue stones of my patio in the late afternoon sun . Not even lift a wing to try to escape as I came up the walk. Perhaps a maiden flight from the nest gone wrong.  I lifted it up, and decided it was in need of serious and quick intervention.  I took it in and out of the mister a few times to get him cooled off, until I could see a bit of response, with a full body shake.  I then sat him in a small maple tree just out of the range of the mist, but in the shade for a little rest.    There were drops of water on the leaves close by so perhaps there could be a sip of water.  15 minutes or so later, I returned, lifted him up in my hand. There was an attempt at flight, that landed him on the ground, I lifted him again, and this time the flight was strong and high, up over the pear trees that line the pool and out of sight.  I can not know definitively the outcome for this little creature, but I have chosen to think that this time thing turned out well.

After a rainy spring, we’ve had no rain for something like five weeks. Garden’s really dry. I’ve nearly run out all my rain barrels and had to resort to the hose. This year I’ve attached a chlorine filter, though it slows the stream considerably. And I'm mostly watering what we eat rather than what looks beautiful, despite the predatory bindweed that threatens to smother it all. Yet the hyacinth beans (Dolichos lablab), which I’ve been struggling for years to grow, are blooming manfully. I had admired a neighbor’s many moons ago, and had religiously planted seed in my beds each year hoping they’d grow up the fences. No dice. This year, I started some in the green house, and lo and behold, plants! They’ve even survived the rabbits, which are overrunning us this year. So much so that I’ve found fox spore practically next to the house. (It’s an amazing fox year, too). But back to the beans. They’ve been such a help to my outlook. I walk up to the garden, knowing that there are wads and wads of things inside that need tending desperately, a discouragement before I’ve even begun. But when I see those bean blooms, spikes of them standing like decorated soldiers with the glossy burgundy pods hanging beneath, I get inspired. At least, they encourage me to try.

Botanical blessings

The pole beans are up and I’m as pleased with them as though I’d given birth personally. Pole beans are such a pleasure, like a grown child who remembers your birthday. I put them in probably two and a half weeks ago and they’re up six inches, with big bold leaves. The rabbits are already taking notice, the voracious little rodents, and have nipped off the first four Lazy Housewife tops. But others, ying/yang, tiger’s eye and cranberry, are all so far doing well. One of the great pleasures of pole beans is their versatility in both garden and kitchen. They clamber, so you can grow them up whatever trellis or ladder takes your fancy for vertical interest and ease of picking, their blooms are beautiful -- varied in color and size with their variety -- and they can be picked every day for a bountiful crop both fresh and frozen or canned, or left to dry when they’ll be shelled out on a lovely December day. And they fix nitrogen to their roots, so they add good things to the soil. What more could you want? Except fewer rabbits.

The weeds in these pics are evidence of my own lazy housewife tendencies in the garden. It’s all I can do to grow the food, gather the food, cook the food (clean up after cooking the food) and preserve the food. (I know I’m complaining, but I feel the need to excuse my horticultural shortcomings.). I leave perfection, much as I admire and envy it, to others, like my fellow blogger, Janet, and her garden elf. I get to enjoy and rave over other more perfect gardens, a pleasure in itself. The Viceroy butterfly hung out almost the entire time I hauled buckets of water to the beans from the dwindling contents of the rain barrels. There are plenty of garden blessings even for lazy housewives.