Share Without Being Over-run

All creatures have at least minimal requirements for their home. Any of us, however, are capable of missing the big picture in our push to make ourselves comfy. Sometimes our homes shelter us. Sometimes they lie in the path of a tsunami.

I erected two bluebird boxes on posts in 1987 with the help of my friend Ed. One I placed where I could watch it from the porch. It faces south. The other I put up behind the house near some fruit trees and I oriented it east, where I could see it from my hammock.

Every year since then I have watched bluebirds sit on the south facing house. They go in, they go out. Male and female confer about it, but ultimately, in spite of my agenda for easy observation, they build in the home with the view to the east and the other box becomes a battling ground for diverse species. Wrens usually win. Despite a few calamities caused by snakes or rival birds, the eastern box has fledged maybe as many as 50 families since the 80’s. The south one, zero. If you want to see bluebirds, you have to get with their program.

I am an artist. That’s how I've made my living for 30 years. Last Wednesday I went up to my studio to pack up for an installation and I saw that a Carolina wren had constructed a charming tunnel nest of leaves and moss in behind my inks. She had half-raised a family since I'd been in that room. I fastened the door open for her easy access and she continued to fly in and out with food while I loaded the car. I looked just once at the babies. Five fierce little heads waved inside with gaping mouths.

I knew something was wrong the second I walked in there today. No cheeping. No hopping mad mother. At first I thought squirrels, with whom I also battle for control of my studio, had killed them. Then I thought with trepidation of snakes. When I found five little starved bodies deep inside the cavity I realized what giant calamity had probably befallen them. I was the most likely source of their devastation. They made an unfortunate choice of real estate. It could happen to anyone.

Earthquake, fire, toxic soil, tornado, aggressive neighbors, the list of potential threats to what we view as 'our property' is very long.

I was sick over this unnecessary loss of life. I would have shared my space with these birds until they fledged.

I'm less keen on sharing studio space with squirrels but after years of struggle I have to admit that building my shop under a grove of nut trees was maybe a bit myopic and, again, all about me.

How to share without being over-run; an unanswerable question on a large or small scale. All solutions seem to involve either violence or some kind of myopia. I prefer to weigh that question day to day rather than opting for any kind of 'ultimate solution.' I try to make decisions on a case by case basis. This is not an entirely comfortable position for me but it does leave room for possibilities.