To the ground

The early 20th century building I work in is yellow brick, but it has a metal skin covering it that was installed sometime in the 1970s or so in an attempt to update it.

It's not easy on the eyes, but the Downtown Pittsburgh starlings don't care. It's nest heaven for them. But it's a dangerous heaven. Every spring around the building are fallen baby birds, squawking and cheeping for Mom. Sometimes they manage to flap to some kind of cover and survive. Usually not, but I only see the sad remains of their ends, black patches of flattened feathers on the sidewalk.

This morning, my blissful blindness to baby bird death ended. As I pulled up my bicycle to the light rail station, I watched a starling (or grackle) pick up a baby bird that had fallen from a locust tree. At first I thought it was mother trying to rescue baby. Then big bird dropped baby bird and flew off, leaving it fluttering weakly on its back. For a millisecond I thought to pick it up, but no, I can't save it, I know that.

Tulip poplar blossom from Bird Park, Mt. Lebanon. Photo by Katy Buchanan

The predator returned and this time, successfully snatched its victim in its beak and flew off, presumably with its lunch, or lunch for its own brood.

So my day started sadly, with a baby fallen to the ground. Unlocking my bike at the station after work, there was a purple finch chattering away in the locust, but I couldn't see any nest.

It's also the season for tulip poplars to bloom. And every spring, I always find a few blossoms, fallen to the ground in the park.