As many of you know, I write a lot about birds.
Every March, I write specifically about the house finches which build a nest in my front door wreath. They have done this for years, except for 2020 during COVID-19, strangely. They built a nest in the wreath that year but never laid eggs.
This year my husband put his foot down: Enough. We haven’t been able to open our front door or enjoy our porch every spring and summer since I don’t know when. Don’t let the birds build a nest in that wreath.
I knew a pair of little finches had been already been eyeing it, however. I have heard them “talking” out there on the porch in their singsong voices. They didn’t seem to like this wreath, really: it’s a winter one, still up from Christmastime.
I should have taken it down a while back. I knew better than to put out a spring wreath, for, against my husband’s wishes, it would become a finch nursery. I would be a frenzied Franna again, roping off the porch to keep the babies safe. I wasn’t always successful. Some babies died in the nest, and I grieved as I removed it. The parents carried on, rebuilding in no time, laying more eggs.
Naure is astoundingly resilient.
I’d also take the granddaughters out for an occasional up-close glimpse of tiny new life coming into the world. I would marvel at the parents’ unfailing care of their young. I would hear their songs, the most beautiful trills and warbles. It’s a pure, sweet, glorious song. The sound of joy.
Yesterday I noticed that the finches had started a nest in the wreath…they are so stealthy about it!
Today my husband took the wreath down (because I couldn’t).
I understand. I do. It’s a pain to keep the front of the house roped off for months – yes, months – at a time, for these prolific little songbirds.
Yet it always felt like a gift, to have them here and to provide shelter for them, so that more beauty could fly out into the world.
I am bracing myself for the finch’s discovery of the disappeared wreath. They planned on having their babies there. I do not think I can bear the sound of their sweet voices asking Why?
But as yet, there is no sound from the porch. The sun is very bright this morning, and I hear all sort of birds in the distance.
I expect my finches will rapidly find another place to build. I pray they do. The world needs more of these little creatures who were never supposed to have survived in the first place. House finches were released in the wild years ago by unscrupulous pet shop owners. The house finch didn’t die out; it proliferated.
It’s just that, in this moment, the silence, their absence, is an ache in my heart.
There’s no way to tell the finches that I am sorry. Or how much I love them. Not so they’d understand.
And so I write.
What I know is…no matter what, they go on, singing.
House finch pair. Birdman of Beaverton. CC BY-SA 2.0.
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with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the March Slice of Life Story Challenge
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lit bits and pieces 
Oh my, this is lovely.
There’s no way to tell the finches that I am sorry.
This line stands out, your aching heart is clear to your readers, and turning to writing to make sense of it is a gift. Thanks for the heartfelt share.
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Thank you for this lovely response!
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I understand the joy of having the nests and your husband’s determination not to! I think you could write a picture book about this slice, though. There’s something here… The (because I couldn’t) was a powerful little craft move!
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Writing a picture book about the finches and the joy they bring – what a joy that in itself would be! Maybe I should think on this…thank you, Melanie, for your amazingly encouraging responses.
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Fran, I know your heart well enough to know how much this hurts. I also know the power of a front door and sitting on the porch to watch birds in the yard. What I wonder is whether a wreath relocated on the side of a wall under an eave might still give them a place and bring the same traditions of peeking at the baby birds with your granddaughters. I agree with Melanie – – there is something here, and perhaps taking away one thing makes room for something else.
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Ah, Kim – you do know. I don’t blame my husband, honestly. He’s been a trooper about it for years. You know, as I do, that something especially joyful lies just ahead…I expect it will fill and overflow the empty space in my heart created by the finch absence.
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I can see both sides of this argument, but my heart aches for how quiet your porch will be this year. The finches will be fine, as you know. In good bird news, we have a wood duck laying eggs. Remains to be seen if they stay and incubate. And even so, not all the eggs hatch.
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I am happy to hear your good bird news, Margaret! I hope all goes well with the wood duck family. Yes, sometimes there’s tragedy in the attempts at new life – I would not want to repeat the deaths of the baby finches. Still – that song – so glorious. I will ahve to spend more time outside, listening. I can’t think the pair will go far.
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Oh no, the poor finches and I feel for you and understand your sense of loss. But I am certain they will find another nesting place and that it won’t be too far away, as they obviously feel safe and secure around your home. I hope it’s close enough so you can still hear their lovely singing.
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I feel sure the finches will not go far. I think what hurts most is that they are such sweet, pure little birds; they wouldn’t hurt another living thing. They are vegetarians. It’s almost the absence of that purity that hurts the most – the world so lacking it.
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This is a really precious piece. Thank you for bringing me up close and personal to something that could so easily be overlooked.
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Thanks so much for your kind response!
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It hurts but I am sure they will find a safe place. Here Bulbuls try to build their nests inside the house and I keep the windows closed till they find another place. Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you for your encouraging thoughts, Lakshmi.
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Fran, I understand how you feel. We have robins who year after year build a nest on a speaker we have on our patio. If we go out there, they scold us. We watch the progress and family growth through our bathroom window.
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It’s such a wonder and a privilege to witness birds raising their young.
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Fran,
I am so sorry, and I admit I’m angry w/ your husband. I’d probably react in a cold wind sort of way if my husband did that to my bird friends. I do hope those finches find a new nesting spot. Do you have a back door where you can hang the wreathe?
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Glenda, I cannot help smiling at the “cold wind sort of way” idea — there might be times I would be so inclined, too (!!), but the thing is, I happen to know an incredibly beautiful thing he has done out of the blue, for me. I still can’t believe it. I haven’t shared it yet – I will do so near the end of the challenge. I expect this gesture will soon ease my sore heart and probably fill it to overflowing…in the meantime, I will be watching for where “my” finches go. The breeding season is long. Maybe I can figure out an acceptable alternate location…that is a great thought. Thank you for your heart on their behalf.
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I understand every reason you wanted to let finches nest in the wreath. Loved the closing photo, too. Sounds like you were trying to forget your husband’s demands, but he was determined to reclaim the porch.
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I hesitated to write this post because I didn’t want people to think I was overdramatizing…so, to hear you say you understand completely about why I’d let the finches nest so close is a salve. It really is. They have a purity about them that feels rare to me. I will be watching to see what they do. I don’t think they will go far – and I will know, by their song. I can’t blame my husband, really – he’s been a trooper about the no-porch situation for years.
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This story told me much about finches, but much more about you, Fran. Your love of nature, your soft heart, your compassion, and your joy as you introduce your grandkids to the awe of birth. Thanks for sharing!
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So many feelings nesting in this slice, but this line – “nature is astoundingly resilient” sticks with me. The finches know Franna’s heart, and they will persevere as they have in the past. This is lovely writing, so full of life- just like the nests, whether they are on your porch or somewhere else close by.
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Oh! Goodbye little finches! I understand your husband’s point of view – I do! – but I feel your heartbreak, too. Perhaps (perhaps) they will find a nearby place to nest and you will have the best of both worlds. And they are resilient. They will find a place…
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Oh, Fran, I’m sorry the finches have to go elsewhere, but it does make sense that they will be safer without the door opening and closing all spring. They will keep growing, living, and singing. Peace to you, my friend.
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Fran, I’m sorry about your wreath being removed. I remember the joy the finches brought you. I feel your ache. I’m glad you were able to share the finches with your granddaughters. Perhaps, you could hang the wreath in a different place, and they would find it and you would still be able to use the front door. I suspect they like the shelter that a porch brings, though. I love all your emotions in this heartfelt piece, they pulled me in. Excellent writing. Great ending. Yes, they do go on singing. Maybe you will learn to distinguish the house finch voices from the other bird songs. But maybe you can find another place for a nest.
I had a lot of house finches that came to my bird feeder this winter. I did see a few purple finches, too. I suspect I might see more purple finches soon because it has warmed up here quickly.
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Thanks for these sweet words of encouragement, Gail. I hear the house finch song everywhere I go, this time of year – I know it well. At a recent outdoor wedding, a house finch was loudly singing its heart out. I cannot think of more joyful music. I do hope you see more purple finches – I never tire of the wonder of birds!
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