That afternoon, Allen was inspired to work on the other bluebird house. We had a new pole and predator guard, but the hardest part was getting the video camera installed and properly focused. Allen threaded all the cords through some PVC that we may bury when we decide the birdhouse will stay put. Now the new house is posted and ready for a new nest.
This morning, I peeked out the kitchen window toward the birdhouse to see if I could see Sialia or Silas. I may have I screamed when I noticed the nest hanging out the hole. Dressed for church with three-inch heeled sandals, I rushed through the damp, freshly-watered grass, hiked up my skirt, and climbed into a nearby chair to peek into the birdhouse. Just as I suspected -- the five little peeps were all gone. Several sets of parallel scratches on the wood reminded me of the few places our cats have scratched our furniture, so I suspect that darn black cat (not ours) that I think got the house finch nest a few weeks ago. I cried for that half-a-handful of baby birds and for the sorrow I imagine the parents must feel. Then guilt settled on my heart as I realized that was the third time that birdhouse was invaded. Allen took the birdhouse down and cleaned it out. It will sit in our garage until I get a pole and predator guard so we can find a new place for it. I'm definitely bummed. The kids were sad to learn another bit about food chains and life's cycles, and this lesson hit our hearts a lot harder than the owl pellets.
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