Eye spy

Is it just me, or does this little gal look like
she should be sporting a monocle?

(...or does it look like she has a conjunctivitis?)

Trapeze Artist!

"Oh, he floats through the air with the greatest of ease..."

I've been thwarted! They have been so baffled by the baffle, and so must have had a squirrel detective meeting to devise a way to get past my baffle and onto the feeders.

Hmmmm... how should we try this? What about trying to launch ourselves from the birdbath? I think we could make it to that suet feeder and then we'd be home free!

So, I waited and watched. Camera poised. Action mode. He crept down from his perch on the swing and climbed on the birdbath. It took a moment for him to get his nerve up, but then... one, two, three.... take off! (Click to see him stretched out in mid-air!)


Whew! Landed it! Up and over the pole to the cup feeders on the other side! We did it! We found a way to get past her baffle!!! Yahoooo! Yippeeeee! Na-na-na-na-Na-na!

Just how far can you jump guys? The birdbath just got moved two feet back. Stay tuned...

Purple Martins galore!

(photo by James R. Hill III at Purple Martin.org)

How cool would this be to see???

Swarms of summer invaders flock to South Carolina's Lake Murray

By JACOB JORDAN
The Associated Press

COLUMBIA, S.C. (AP) — It's a bad time to be a bug in central South Carolina, but a darn good time to be a bird watcher.

An island in the center of a lake here serves as the temporary summer home for a massive flock of purple martins that's so big it can be seen on radar.

An estimated 700,000 purple martins fill the air on July evenings as the sun sets, swirling above the island before swooping down into thick vegetation where they may spend the night on branches, shoulder-to-shoulder, tree limbs bending beneath them after a day of dining on horseflies and other flying insects.

"It's really a thing of beauty," said ornithologist and Clemson University professor emeritus Sidney Gauthreaux, who has spent many evenings watching the picturesque spectacle.

The island, dubbed Bomb Island by some because B-25s used it for target practice during World War II, became the first purple martin sanctuary in North America in the early 1990s.

Purple martins are the only bird east of the Rocky Mountains to depend almost entirely on birdhouses and other manmade nests for housing. In the West, the species still nests in hollowed-out cacti or trees.

These martins migrate from South America, eventually reaching as far north as Canada.

"It's not 100 percent understood. Martins are not the only birds that roost. Starlings roost, grackles roost, some shore birds roost, but none them get in these big concentrations like martins," said Satch Krantz, executive director of the Riverbanks Zoo and Garden, who recently led a cruise to the island for members of the South Carolina Wildlife Federation.

The South Carolina island and the underside of the Lake Ponchartrain bridge in Louisiana are some of the largest roosts in the United States. They're so large that the birds in South Carolina show up on the National Weather Service radar each morning they leave.

About 45 minutes before sunrise, the birds fly high into the sky and the weather instrument first picks up a small blip, which becomes a ring and then expands, covering much of the state. They're absent from the radar in the evenings, when the birds fly in less-concentrated flocks.

"We're familiar with it and we know what it is, so it's not going to cause any alarm," said weather service meteorologist Tony Petrolito.

Bomb Island in South Carolina became a sanctuary after lake resident Bob Wilkins and his wife began to notice nearly 20 years ago the throngs of purple martins. At first, he shared the scene with just a few other boaters who also rode by the island to view the remnants of bomb shells protruding from the shores. Eventually, Wilkins and others pushed for the site's protection.

"When we came out here, there were three boats besides ours watching the birds and there were hundreds of thousands of them," said Wilkins. "They made it into a sanctuary and after that you could find 100 boats out here at one time."

Experts say it's unclear exactly why the birds chose the island, but it may be for protection and vegetation. The thick overgrowth with briars and trees, and the sizable water barrier between the island and some of the choicest real estate near the state's capital city protect the martins from predators like foxes and bobcats.

The birds venture 80 to 100 miles from the roost during the day. It's uncertain whether the same martins return to the roost each evening. Either way, for those fortunate enough to see them circling, barely missing one another above the island, it's quite a scene.

"I think they're incredibly skilled," said Gauthreaux, the ornithologist.

There is some concern this mass of purple martins may eventually find somewhere else to go. But for now, each summer it's where the swallows come home to roost.

"They have been known to move," said Krantz, the zoo director. "But as long as this island stays protected, hopefully they're going to be coming up here for a long, long time."

Blue bathing beauties

Yesterday, I went out to really scrub my birdbath with some Comet. It's amazing to me how yucky it can get, and I still didn't get all the red staining (from minerals?) out, but it was much cleaner than it had been. I took a tip from other birdbaths I've spied on your blogs and found a nice flat stone to place in the center for the smaller birds who usually have to teeter on the edge to dip in far enough for water. I scrubbed it good as well and then left the 100000% humidity to go in and see who might enjoy it.

I was surprised to see the birds start flocking to the newly scrubbed bowl immediately. Many, especially the small house finches, loved the center rock and were all over it. But, I was very tickled to see two of my male bluebirds who fledged this season both come to check it out. Just as I was about to go in after snapping several shots, the one in the water started bathing with such gusto, water was spraying everywhere! It was so delightful to watch. Their mom is gone, but hopefully they will stick around and make Chickadee their home.

Late blooms

Finally! With the recent rains in the evenings, things are starting to bloom out. I was walking around the house yesterday and was happy to see the Rose of Sharon with some blooms and buds. With the very, very dry start to summer and spring, things have been pushed back in their blooming cycles. My Crepe Myrtle is just now blooming, here at the end of July. It's been an odd growing year no doubt, but I am thankful for these small beauties.

Money well spent

***Here's the update with how nice the tree line behind the house now looks with the mulch covering the bare dirt! :c)


Yesterday was a busy, busy day for me. I spent my off day waiting on the plumber, the propane people, and finally the mulch blowing guys!

So, we no longer have "hammer pipe problems" due to a faulty pressure regulator, the propane tank is full for the fireplace come fall and winter, and, more importantly, every bed in this yard is covered in a new 2" layer of mulch! Yahoooo!

Mulching is not particularly a task I look forward to, and since we have a larger area to keep mulched, we decided to call the people who bring in The Big Truck and blow the stuff in where it's supposed to go. In addition, we had them blow it along the edge of the tree line in the back yard and it looks so much better now. I was going to get some lovely photos of the finished result, but it started storming soon after they left. *** I can't even imagine how many little bags of hardwood mulch it would have taken, let alone, how much my back would have been breaking hauling and spreading it all. All in all, money very well spent and a very productive day!

Chickadee Prayer

I couldn't help it... this little chickadee looked like she was praying!
Then again, she could just be looking at her feet realizing
a pedicure is long past due?

(OK, so maybe there was a seed in there before I snapped the photo.)

Sam sings a new song

Sam: "Mom, I have a new song to sing for you! It's from Sesame Street."

Mom: "Sing it Sam!" :c)
And so he does.... with pure glee.

Chirping away in the trees

I've noticed more and more cardinals at the feeder lately, especially some males. They are coming almost every day now. A few days ago, I heard a symphony of cardinal singing, yet there was one voice that didn't quite have the tune down yet. It was more of a persistent chirping which did not necessarily coincide with the others. I looked up in the trees to check out the tone-deaf cardinal, and saw this sweet sight.

I'm with Dana!

The local paper in this area, the Times Free Press, runs a column called My Life, which gives writers in each particular decade of life (20's, 30's, 40's, 50's) a forum to share about their lives. I love Dana Shavin, as she is in her 40's too, and always has something humorous to share. Today was no exception...

Three weeks in jail would be like a Hilton for me
Dana Shavin
My Life: 40s

I’m not a big celebrity watcher, but every now and then some trumped-up drama catches my attention.
In recent weeks, it was the fact that Paris Hilton was sentenced to jail for the amount of time it takes to marinate a steak, and it nearly did her in.
I was not sympathetic to her plight. My lack of sympathy had less to do with Paris’ questionable coping skills than it did with her missed opportunity. I couldn’t help but think about how much I could get done with a couple of uninterrupted weeks in jail.
To begin with, I would read. I would catch up on all the old classics that all the new classics quote, so that I could finally understand the references. Once I was through with the classics, I might stroll through a few of the Harry Potter books, just to see what all the fuss is about.
When I got tired of reading, I would finally write down a few of the stories that have been rolling around inside my head.
When I was finished with that, I would learn Pilates, and when stretching and breathing got old, I would sit down on my cot and call every out-of-town friend I’ve been meaning to call for the past two years, plus everyone I need to call but don’t want to, everyone who has called me lately but I haven’t called back, and my mother.
Next, I would hire a CPA, a lawyer, a math tutor, a computer technician, a physician and a therapist. I would have them each come to my jail cell at staggered interludes and explain to me, in terms I could finally understand, my investment statements, my Verizon bill, my Tennessee Department of Revenue forms, my homeowners insurance, my new digital camera, my old MP3 player, my last sonogram and my family.
I would devote several days to researching a new health insurance carrier. I’d study my Capital One No Hassle Miles contract and finally figure out how many tens of thousands of dollars I need to charge to fly free from Chattanooga to Dalton, Ga.
I would organize all of my photo albums by year and subject and throw out all pictures of me wearing anything approaching pink. I would finally make an appointment with the photo lab to have what’s left of my wedding tape burned to a DVD.
I would learn, on an intellectual level, how to make bread. Ditto the perfect risotto, pizza crust and cobbler. I would go through all of my back issues of Cooking Light and tear out every recipe that looks interesting, and I would put them into a three-ring notebook organized by Meals, Snacks, Desserts and This Is Pretty But It’ll Never Happen in My Kitchen.
I would rent a video on how to clip your own cocker spaniel and weep copiously because all the dogs on the tape were so cute. Then I would watch it several more times, so that, when I was released, I could do my own grooming.
I would skim Karen Mac-Neil’s wine bible and memorize three words pertaining to wine that I could actually say in a restaurant. I would learn the rudimentaries of typing and sewing just in case the 1950s decided to make a surprise reappearance. I would pay several parking tickets in advance to save time later in the year. I would watch one episode each of “Dancing With the Stars,” “American Idol” and “Survivor” so that I could converse intelligently about reality.
Then, I would make a list. The list would consist of everything I needed to get done that I couldn’t accomplish behind bars. This would include things like going through my closet and ridding it of every black jacket I haven’t worn in 10 years, cleaning out the hutch drawers and throwing away everything I don’t recognize (ditto the refrigerator) and removing prehistoric spiders from the corners of windows before they evolve into something too large to transport in a mayonnaise jar.
In summary, unlike Paris Hilton, I would use my precious time in lockup wisely. Then, when they came to unshackle me, I’d clamor for 21 days in rehab so I could get some rest.

Another peanut lover

He eats and he sings,
he sings and he eats.
I love my backyard wrens.

Rescued from Lowe's

So, I was in Lowe's to purchase pool supplies...
I walked past this beauty and knew I had to rescue it.
I've always been intimidated by the idea of an orchid
but, now it's here, on the stand with my violets.
Pray for the poor Phalaenopsis called
Nobby's Amy.
I do hope it likes it here in this window.
I guess, in time, we shall see.

"The Missing Pane: Eastern Phoebe" Framed!

Yesterday I was able to pick up my newly framed print by Julie Zickefoose, artist extraordinaire! The triple mat my mom and I picked out and the barn wood frame (hard to see the pretty detail here) on her Missing Pane print look spectacular! It now hangs here in the study where I can look up from my computer and see its beauty every day. Thanks for taking us along on the creation of this beautiful watercolor Julie. It will be something I will enjoy and cherish forever.

Singing that song...

I have read and re-read this wonderful post about The Song of Myself at Real Live Preacher. What would it be like to really be able to sing that song? What would it sound like? Do you dare sing it? Are we brave enough to even consider searching for it? Will it just always be a distant melody in your head?

Thank you RLP for providing so much food for thought.

In my mom and dad's yard...

Visitor after the rain

I think this is a sweet juvenile Downy
born earlier this spring?
Oh, how they love their peanuts!
Oh, how I love watching them.

Goodbye to Roi

PEREGRINE "ROI" 1993-2007

(From Chattanoogan.com)

The male peregrine falcon that avid birdwatchers call Roi, has died.

Roi and various female peregrine falcons have nested on the railroad bridge beneath Chickamauga Dam for ten years. It was one of only two known peregrine falcon nests in the State of Tennessee. The peregrines were a favorite among area birdwatchers, and anyone else who witnessed their amazing aerial acrobatics.

Roi was estimated to be nearly 14 years old... extremely old for a wild falcon. On May 20 he apparently flew into a building near downtown Chattanooga and broke a wing. He was taken to the Chattanooga Zoo who then handed him off to the Clinch River Raptor Rehabilitation Center near Knoxville. He was being cared for by vets from the University of Tennessee College of Veterinary Medicine.

Initially hopes were that he could be healed and returned to the wild. However, after the wild falcon chewed and damaged the splint on his wing, it soon became clear he would not be returned to the wild. Otherwise his prognosis was good.

However, sometime late Friday or early Saturday, Roi died.

Michael P. Jones, DVM, Dipl. ABVP (Avian Specialty), sent the following e-mail to Chattanooga-area birders Saturday:

Unfortunately, today I have to report terrible news regarding Roi. Roi passed away some time between 10:30pm (when I last checked in on him) and 7:00am today. I am not sure why he passed away; however, he was not doing well since 3:00pm yesterday afternoon.

Roi's bandage was changed yesterday morning and he appeared to do fine with anesthesia. At 3:00pm Roi was exhibiting some very strange behavior (mouth chomping, laying on his sternum and twictching). We sampled blood and gave him valium which appeared to control the apparent "seizures". He seemed steady and actually stood when I treated him at 10:00pm. I left at 10:30 with Roi still standing.

My students, then found him dead this morning when they came in for morning treatments. A complete necropsy is planned for Monday to determine the cause of death. I really hated to lose Roi as I desperately wanted to get him back to you and your group - that has monitored him for so many years. While I enjoy working on many avian, exotic and wildlife species, the raptors, especially the peregrine falcon and bald and golden eagles, occupy special places in my heart. And, today my heart is heavy for Roi.

I encourage and support efforts to begin a peregrine hacking site in honor of Roi. And, if I can be of any service to this effort please let me know.

Please do not hesitate to call me if you have any questions.

Most sincerely,

Michael P. Jones, DVM, Dipl. ABVP (Avian Specialty)
Associate Professor, Avian and Zoological Medicine
The University of Tennessee
College of Veterinary Medicine
Dept. of Small Animal Clinical Sciences

Happy Birthday Mother

She is my soft heart.
She is my smile.
She is gentleness and love.
She is all warm hugs.
She is a great coffee buddy.
She knows me so very well.
She is so beautiful, inside and out...
She is my Mother.
Happy Birthday to the best Mother in the world.
I love you so very much.

Dining Room Delight

Miss Michelle came by yesterday afternoon to again work her magic and help me decorate the new dining room area. I had pieces I wanted to incorporate into the room, but wanted to add some other things that might compliment what we already had, and as usual, she did a wonderful job!! I love to see someone with that sort of creative flair just start putting things places and seeing how it all comes together.

I love, love, love the accent lamp on top of husband's great grandmother's 100+ year old china cabinet. The white wash pitcher belonged to his grandfather. On the buffet, I knew I wanted our parent's wedding photos as well as some of the Roseville pottery that belonged to his mom. The teacups belonged to my grandmother. I am now really loving this room.

Housefinchland

Why there have not been many bird posts lately...
Chickadee is now Housefinchland.
OK, one Downy and one silly Dove...
But, that's about the jist of it lately.

Oh, yeah...

A man and his Deere... it's a beautiful thing...

Lost: One mom bluebird

It's been a sweet year on Chickadee for the bluebirds with an early first nest of four baby fledglings, followed by a second nest of five more cuties. Several weeks after the second brood fledged, mom bluebird started building a third nest.

I checked that nest a week or so after I saw her first going in and saw these four perfect blue eggs in a comfy pine straw nest. But I noticed this week that something was awry. I was not seeing mom going in to incubate this nest. As a matter of fact, the more I watched, the more I realized that I had not really seen her much at all. I was still seeing the male and even some of the first and second brood with him, but no mom. Could something have happened to the nest? I checked the nest box again... there were the four eggs, intact.

Once I realized I had not seen her, I started seeing the male light on the top of the feeder pole in the evenings and warble as if he was calling for her. Then, he'd fly to the house, start poking his head in and out as if to reassure himself that there was still indeed a nest with eggs in there. He'd fly back to the feeder finial and then repeat this behavior. I took this photo yesterday afternoon after I saw him again go to the house.

I am thinking something must have happened to the female. That makes me so very sad. Then again, I told husband that if I'd had to raise nine babies already in this heat and draught, I'd be wondering if I'd made the right decision to raise the tally to 13. Is this common, for them to build, lay, and then not incubate? If something didn't happen to her, would she have just left? I've never had one do this before.

So, here I have this sweet nest of eggs.... if you happen to see her, will you tell her to come on home? We miss her here on Chickadee.

Journey Through... ???

When I decided to start a blog at the beginning of 2006, the only thing I had in mind was to rekindle a creative outlet in writing, and to give myself a challenge outside my comfort zone. I would blog about my journey in life thus far... hence the name, Journey Through Grace, as grace truly has sustained me. I knew it would include my love for the birds, and there were some posts about my feeders and photos of my feathered friends.

As time went by, and my photography expanded with new lenses, I found myself taking more and more photos of birds, and once I got my 100-400mm lens this past spring, it really became a new passion. I was actively visiting other birding blogs and became acquainted with many people who shared my obsession. Before I knew it, my blog was being referred to as a nature/birding blog, which was fine with me as it was seemingly about birds more often than not. But, I do post about other things as well. My struggles and delights with raising a teen with autism, my observations about life, the occasional meme, and other various and sundry things are included.

Several weeks back, I added a sitemeter to my blog as I was curious to see just how people find me here. Over the weekend I was looking through some of the referral sources, when I found that someone found me through Georgia Birding Resources. Huh? I am listed as someone whose blog is about birding in Georgia. I've never even been outside my own backyard. Gulp. I never knew I was listed there and it was a bit of a shock to tell you the truth! I am flattered but at the same time, feel badly that people might be tuning in to see the "bird blog from Georgia" and see a post about silly dusting slippers.

To that end, I have now gone through ALL my 578 posts and added a "birds" tag to those posts about the birds and have put the link at the top of my sidebar. That way, at least those people who don't want to read about Sam's hi jinks at the Food Lion can just click on the bird posts and enjoy themselves. So there... problem solved! (I'm still almost giggling that I am listed on that GA Birding site.)

Perfect camouflage

Yesterday, I was out in the yard, trimming away dead branches off all the shrubs which were killed with the late Easter freeze, when I saw something interesting.... see anything there?

Hidden among the leaves I found this cool guy! What great camouflage!

What raises my vibe?

It's a meme kind of week!

I've been tagged to blog about five ways I "raise my vibe" by Wrenaissance Woman. This orginated at the OptimistLab which is all about positive blogging... I like that concept.

1. I am such a cup half 3/4 full person and keeping that attitude helps me have such a lighter view of life and decreases my drama quotient. I truly am usually always in a pretty good mood, and can easily find joy in most everything I do.

2. Looking forward to coffee in the morning brings me pure joy. I love the aroma, taste, and feeling of pure contentment as I swallow that first sip. Ok, so it's a drug. At least it's calorie free and legal. My coffee these days comes from The Coffee Fool and not only is it just the best in my book, but those fools have way too much fun creating and selling it. More cup 3/4 full folks... I gravitate towards them.

3. Sitting on the deck just looking at the bird feeders and nature in general raises my vibe. It's like taking a fresh breath of air and exhaling completely to let go of any stress that might have built up in the day. It's transformative and tranquil and I love it.

4. Reading the blogs of so many dear, dear friends I've come to know in this blogging community brings me almost over my joy quotient daily. I laugh, I snort, I cry, I smile, I applaud along with you and rejoice that so many people can express themselves so eloquently. It fills my heart with glee to check in and say "hey" to you all.

5. Music... oh music... what would I do without music? I sing along to every CD I own in the car and know the words to pretty much every song. My music choice matches what mood I am in, and it transports me to a wonderful, happy place.

Hmmmm.... now the rule is to list five favorite posts from different bloggers, who in turn can play this meme as well. Hard decision...


Sorrow Unmasked at visual-voice.net

Our Lady of Charbroil at martha, martha

Disappointment at Songbird

Five Baby Chickadees at Monarch's Nature Blog

The Pipes at Q's Corner

Eight random facts meme

Lynne at Hasty Brook has tagged me to play, so here we go... (Wren, I am still thinking on your meme and will post it when I am done!) :c)

Here are the rules for Eight Random Facts:
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

1. In 1988 I was chosen as an Outstanding Young Woman in America for my work in Jaycee projects.

2. I drink some coffee with my Splenda... yes, I use three to four per cup, depending on the size of the mug.

3. I typically always drive the speed limit... ok, maybe 5 mph over, but that's about it.

4. As a child, I had a cotton top head.

5. I use the same cereal bowl and spoon each morning. I just wash it out, dry it, and put it back in the cabinet, spoon in bowl. (Oh, and every morning, that bowl contains Fiber One cereal!)

6. I hate going into the ocean or a lake...bleh. Love walking on the shore.

7. I put Carmex on my lips every single night before bed.

8. I am habitually early to everything. It's genetic.

Now, I'd name eight people to tag, but Lynne darn near named everyone I'd name, so I'll just add four:

Ginger at Joyful Woman
Katie at Rainbow Dreams
Wren at Wrenaissance Woman
Ruth at Body, Soul, and Spirit

OK girls, I've found a solution

So, the next time you are told you that you spend waaaaay too much time blogging....

Dusting Slippers

Housekeeping's a breeze with these handy helpers. Rag-mop scuffs pick up dirt, dust, and pet hair as you walk-then you simply throw them in the wash! 100% cotton canvas uppers; silicone-treated, cotton-mop soles. Imported. Color: Red plaid. One size fits most.

There you go... you can now blog AND dust all at the same time!! Add a little Pledge and hang on for dear life!

USPS Rocks!

This week, I went to the post office we have
at the hospital to mail some packages, and asked
for a book of stamps.

Imagine my complete glee when she put these on the counter!
Oh. My. :c)
I got four books of them.
Stamps as art!

A Happy July 4th to all!

A weed indeed

From Barbara Crafton's Almost Daily eMo yesterday at The Geranium Farm. So much food for thought... Love that Barbara!




ANY COLOR BUT BEIGE

I don't know why so many people dread weeding -- for the most part, it's fun. You bring order so swiftly out of chaos when you free a plant from whoever's trying to strangle it; the garden looks better right that very moment. And, after the initial serious sweep of weeds, your activity reduces to a simple pulling up of a lone intruder whenever you see one -- on your way down the walk to get the paper, on your way back up the driveway from setting out the trash. Just a bend and a quick swipe, whenever you pass by -- that's enough to keep things under control once you've established who's going to be in the garden and who isn't.

Which is, of course, a culturally relative decision. Nothing under the eye of eternity makes a rose any better than a clover, a hydrangea better than a ragweed -- we are the ones who came up with that. It's just a matter of which one we like better. You could have an entire garden of nothing but what we consider weeds and it could be a lovely garden.

Our lives are full of aesthetic judgments masquerading as moral ones. We love the expected and the familiar, and lash out at anything that doesn't fit in what is usually a rather small tribal box. We insist that everyone worth knowing loves what we love, and we suspect him deeply if he loves something else instead. We imagine that we can know a person's worth by evaluating his shopping habits, that we can tell what a person thinks about everything if we know her political party or where he went to school. We meet a pro-choice conservative or a pro-life liberal and we are shaken. We imagine that patriotism and homogeneity are the same thing.

But no. Nobody has the luxury of allowing an affiliation -- even a church -- to do her thinking for her. We're each responsible for ourselves, however mightily we try to evade that responsibility. Is it any wonder that the world has become so beige?

And doesn't another color pop up through the cracks, again and again, no matter what we do?

Thanks be to God.

Resilience

Back in the fall, we fully dug up what was at the mailbox bed to plant
a new 8' x 8' bed and included dwarf crepe myrtle, creeping juniper,
autumn joy sedum, purple coneflower, and daffodil bulbs.
So, imagine my surprise when I saw this gladiolus above.
Then I remember that the previous homeowner had some
in this bed. The soil was fully tilled and replanted
and yet, it somehow managed to survive.
It looks quite odd there now amongst the daffodil greens, but
I admire it's resilience, and so just smile as I gaze upon it.

Hornet handling

Well, by the time the Cook's Pest Control man came Friday evening, the nest had completely occluded the entrance hole as you can see. I told G. (my brave Cook's man) that I had thought putting duct tape over the entrance would dissuade them, but instead they just built over it and started using the air vents in the bottom of the house to enter and exit. Because he didn't want to start spraying inside with the prospect of them flooding out of the bottom, he decided to handle this in a different manner.

So, he asked me for two garbage bags and then bravely went out to the house to drape them over the entire thing. I've disguised his face to protect him should there be a line-up with hornets trying to identify him. ;c) He put the two bags on and then used duct tape to secure it around the pole.

Then, he went to his truck to get his trusty spray hose and douse it with hornet killer. He waited and saw two hornets come to try and get into the nest. Let's just say it was not their lucky day. When I asked him if they might not try to eat their way out through the plastic, he asked if I had any tarp material. Yessir, I do!

The finished product was quite ugly, but the tarp was then wound around the bird house covered with garbage bags and secured again with duct tape. If THAT does not cook these suckers down, I just don't know what might. He is to return in a few days and check out the results of his handiwork. In the 90 degree+ days we've been having, they should all be gone... we shall see. If it works, I may be able to salvage the bird house afterall.