Chapter 1: Arrival

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“The Phoebes are back, they're back,” she cried to her mother Lily, while the rest of the world slumbered, still covered in the gauzy light of dawn. Lily greeted her daughter at the bottom of the stairs, “They must have arrived late last night, while we were dreaming. I just heard them sing 'hello' when you did, so it looks like they slept in a little, not unlike yourself,” she added. Taylor was home like everyone else in the world as a terrible insect her mother called a “covid” was travelling around to everyday people and making them very sick. Lily said, “The only way to stop it is to stay home and not give it an inch, as it will take a mile.” So they are at home; her other mother, Ivy, a social worker at their town’s nursing home, was helping her 'other family'- patients, caregivers, children of the residents - get through this thing they were calling a “panic”. People who did not even know Ivy, applauded from their front yards when she left her work to travel home after her shift, driving up the carless road. She passed the town’s ice rink that was now a pool of tears, the shops where they went on Saturdays and Taylor’s favourite place in the whole wide world, the library, all closed, their windows nothing but inky stares. In spite of everything going on in the world, the arrival of the Phoebes was not changed.

Your Turn

Draw a picture of the town where the family lives and what that might look like during what is referred to as the “panic", but what you really know is called a “pandemic”.

Illustration courtesy of our colleague Brian Joyce, an artist, a teacher, a biologist, a naturalist and lover of birds.

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Chapter 2: Hello

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The call they both heard this morning, the one they had been waiting for since the first real day of spring, was expected, but still magical. Taylor knew so much more about the Phoebes now than she did last year when she was just six years old. The bird, she knew, was larger than other members of its flycatcher family, and it simply sang its name. With an accent on the first syllable and a question at the end: “Phoebe?" ( fee-be?) and then answered with the affirmative “Phoebe!” (Fee-be!). Not unlike the way she would say her name, Taylor, when introducing herself to someone she'd never met before. The proper species name was Eastern Phoebe, the only one of four Phoebe species across North America found in this part of Canada. “Likely the male is out there saying “fee be” the carport or “fee be” Taylor’s house,” said Lily. “Where do you think the female will decide to make her nest? You better hurry and get dressed to see where she chooses.” Your Turn Draw a picture of the Phoebe by either researching the bird yourself or using this photograph from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. You can use writing pencils to create a sketch like the one in the first chapter, or if you use colour, you can provide some details. Use a brownish gray for the above part of the body, darkest on the head and pale white underneath, with an olive-green wash on the sides and breast. Notice that the bird has a very dark bill, which is long and perfect for catching insects. Once you complete your drawing, you could research the word “ornithology”.

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Chapter 3: Home

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Once she was dressed, her best friend Bunny tucked into her pocket, Taylor asked if it would be all right to place more hair and yarn outside with the other nesting supplies on the trellis. She wanted to make the chore of building the nest a little easier for the returning Phoebe family. She also wondered if the birds would have to spend two weeks in “ice lake” (isolation) like their neighbours Jan and Steve, because they just came back from another country. After all, the Phoebes had been out of the country too. Lily confirmed that it was not necessary, the birds were not affected the way humans were. Taylor had decided the trellis was fair for leaving the nesting supplies. It was exactly in the middle between their two favourite nesting spots, the neighbour’s carport and Taylor’s back door. She wrapped and tucked everything loosely. Lily had said the neighbours were replacing the carport roof this spring, so that might sway the birds to come over to Taylor’s house. The neighbours had removed sections of the roof already, which meant the birds might find it unsuitable, less than ideal, in fact totally inhospitable, Taylor secretly hoped. They always liked a nesting spot with a roof or an overhang. She was still amazed that humans could make decisions that would change a bird’s ideas and make them move somewhere else. Still, she did not want to impose her preferred outcome. She whispered to Bunny in her pocket, the friend who had been with her always, “Will the Phoebes choose us?” Bunny whispered back, “Oh, yes, I think so. Oh, yes, most definitely.” Bunny was her confident and her soul mate. He never left her side, not even on trips to far away places or when she went to school. Bunny always came with her, carefully secured in her backpack or a pocket, ready to share her biggest secrets and surprises. He was tiny, only the size of her pointer finger.

Your Turn

Phoebes like to nest in eaves, rafters or under bridges, preferably with an overhang. Take a walk around your house to see if you can find a spot that would be suitable for a Phoebe nest. Draw the nest in this chapte

r with the baby Phoebes being fed by their father. Note how long and rounded his tail is. More about the Phoebes tail in Chapter 9.

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Chapter 4: Journeys

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Ivy, Taylor’s other mother who works at the nursing home, slept and took her meals in the guest house at the back of their garden. She was “ice laking” (isolating) because of “covid”. She came home very late last night, so would probably not have heard the birds singing 'hello' this morning. Ivy loved the Phoebes, maybe even more than Taylor did. She knew so much about them. She knew they were the first ones back from their winter home and the last ones to leave each autumn when bare-leaved trees gracefully reached to the sky. She showed Taylor detailed migration maps and showed her something she called their “winter range” in Mexico and Florida. “See, they are very much like us in the winter, except we hibernate, they migrate,” she informed Taylor. Phoebes, Taylor knew, went somewhere warm because that was where they could find insects, their main food source. In Canada, in the winter, there are no insects out and about. When she was five, Taylor wondered if the flies that over-wintered in their walls and the ladybugs she found on warm days on the windows could be enough food for the Phoebes to stay here in the winter. But now that she was seven, she knew that it was not enough food for her Phoebes to live their best life. So, instead, she waited patiently through winter and counted the days in March or April on the fridge calendar when they returned from their journey. Today was March 31st.

Your Turn

Here is a range map of where Phoebes breed (orange) migrate (yellow) and overwinter (blue). There is also a place in the mid-United States where the Phoebes stay year-round (purple). Do some research to determine which states the Phoebes live year-round. Can you draw a range map for yourself before COVID 19? Start with the place you live, your school, shops, library and all the places you like to visit.

Range Map courtesy of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology

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Chapter 5: Tradition

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Her grandmother, Ivy’s mother, told Taylor the story about how when she was a little girl, she and her brother would travel to her grandparent’s cottage on an island in the middle of a lake. Every spring they would take the ferry there and always, always the Phoebes would be there. Already with their nest up in the eaves of the cottage, eggs laid and sometimes the babies already hatched. One year they went earlier than usual and watched the Phoebes actually make their nest. They noticed the birds had taken some yarn from her doll’s hair and pieces of hair from their dog Tyler’s frequent brushings. Ever since then, her Grandmother said, it was a family tradition to leave scraps of yarn, dog hair and hair from their hairbrushes outside for the birds to use. She said, “We liked to give them a break after their long migration; make things a little easier.” Taylor always thought that was so generous. Her grandmother and her grandmother’s brother would squeal with delight when their grandfather helped them up the ladder to inspect the nest after the young birds had fledged. That word 'fledged' had puzzled Taylor at first, but she asked what it meant and learned that is what you call it when the birds leave the nest. Up on the ladder, she would marvel at the bits and pieces of the nest, its shallow mossy cup barely able to hold a dozen marbles. They liked to play detective with the nest, observing which knitting project of their grandmothers, or whose hair had made it into the place of honour each year. They were very respectful of the nest, leaving it intact as her grandmother knew Phoebes will reuse and rebuild on their previous nests - something not all birds do. Her grandmother always waited for the Phoebes to return each spring, then Ivy and her brother waited and now, so does Taylor. It’s her inherited tradition.

Your Turn

Can you find some hair in your hairbrush or your pet’s grooming brush? How about some knitting or crochet project scraps, or even some string in the kitchen drawer or garden shed? Find a place where you can begin to leave these things for a Phoebe or other bird that might nest around where you live.

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Chapter 6: Safe Home

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She knew why the Phoebes were here in their neighbourhood because her grandmother said, they needed humans as much as humans needed Phoebes. The birds liked the way people built things that would allow them to find hidden places to build their nest and lay their eggs. The ledge above Taylor’s back door was not ideal in size, but it did them well last spring, so she had her fingers and toes crossed. Even Bunny’s were crossed, so they may consider it again.

Her grandfather, Lily’s dad, offered to make her a Phoebe bird box. “Just the right size and placed at just the right height,” he said. “It could be our little project together.” He had made hundreds of nesting boxes in his day and put them all over the countryside around their town. It was a big project, designed by many volunteers and ornithologists to help a specific bird that was in severe decline, the Bluebird. It had been impacted by humans, who used a very powerful chemical called “the DDT”. It was a pesticide, her grandfather said, that humans used on their plants to get rid of pests in their gardens and on their farms. Her grandfather said it worked; it killed the insects just like it was supposed to. What happened next was surprising to lots of people, but not her grandfather. He said when the Bluebirds ate the insects with the pesticide, it made them sick and too tired to lay eggs or raise their young. It did not matter whether they were on their home range or their winter range, all the insects were poisoned by “the DDT.” There was no where to escape and so their populations declined.

Humans don’t use DDT anymore he told me, but the number of Bluebirds will never be the same. Each spring he travels many roads, cleaning out the boxes, counting the nestlings and writing notes about when the birds leave the box. It was a way for him to give back to nature, work alongside friends, and enjoy the peace and quiet of the country roads he travelled. He says he cannot keep up anymore and he has trained a younger man to take over his routes. But he said he’s still able to make and put up a Phoebe box; Taylor just needed to give him the word.

So far, she liked the idea of the birds finding their best place to nest, without a box. Taylor also thought it might attract other birds and intimate or intimidate—she was never sure which was the right word to describe when something or someone frightens something or someone else. Which word is it? You decide.

Your Turn

You play a game called ‘Snowperson’, using the words from this chapter. First, grab some scrap paper out of your recycle box. Choose a word and make small short dashes for each letter in the word. Your opponent then suggests letters and you place them on the appropriate dash. Eventually they might get a letter that is not in your word, and you can draw the parts of a snowperson. If they complete the word before you draw the complete snowperson, they win. If you draw a complete snowperson before they get the word, you win.

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Chapter 7: Uninvited

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There is a bird called a Brown-headed Cowbird that is lazy when it comes to nesting and raising its own offspring. You see, it doesn’t know how to make a nest, nor how to sit gently on its eggs to incubate them, so they do something Ivy called “parasitize” the nest. Ivy helped Taylor learn to say the word parasitize, by breaking it down into syllables, just like she did at school. First, she said the word “para” – then the word “sit”– then the word ‘ize”, which sounded like eyes we use to see things. Although it was now easy to say, she was not clear on how it applied to her Phoebes.

Then, one day last June when she and Ivy did a photo inspection of their nest, she came to a full understanding of that word. They waited until the female bird left the nest, then Ivy reached up with her phone and snapped the photos. They were very surprised as they sat quietly on the bench by the back door to look at the nest photos. They discovered four white eggs and one larger white egg with lots of brown speckles, like freckles. It was twice the size of the Phoebe eggs. Ivy said the female Brown-headed Cowbird had laid that egg and might have laid many more in nests around our neighbourhood. The baby Brown-headed Cowbird, because it’s so much bigger than the other birds when they hatch, takes all the food the parents bring to the nest. That means the Phoebe nestlings do not get enough food and parish. Taylor surmised and Ivy confirmed that the word parish is a nice way to say the birds would die. Ivy said if the Phoebe did not eject or build over the uninvited egg in two days, they would have to decide to either let nature take her course or remove the Brown-headed Cowbird egg themselves.

Low and behold on Friday morning, there was a large broken white egg with brown speckles underneath the nest at the back door. The mother Phoebe was a no-nonsense mom, just like my moms, thought Phoebe. This would guarantee the Phoebe nestlings (that was the word her grandfather used, and she used it, too), had a chance at living their best life, and uninvited visitors would not be taking up space in her nest any time soon.

Your Turn

What would you do if the Phoebe in the story did not know enough to eject or rebuild the nest over the uninvited egg? Write or share your thoughts by looking at the pros and cons of removing the egg or leaving the egg in the nest. Research more about the Brown-headed Cowbird to see if you think that the bird has a good strategy for ensuring the survival of its species?

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Chapter 8: Sharing

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One of the things Taylor loved most about the Phoebes, aside from the fact that they sang their name, is that while only the female bird sat on the eggs, keeping them warm as they developed into nestlings, both the male and the female tended them. That meant non-stop hunting for live insects, which they presented to the nestlings like an all-day buffet. It was marvelous to watch them work like a team and hear the tiny peeps from the nest when the parents brought food. As soon as one parent left, the other was at the ready with the next tasty morsel. This went on from dawn til dusk, rain or shine, warm or cold.

When it was nighttime and the birds were sleeping, her grandfather often read to her out of his Princeton Field Guide on Nests, Eggs and Nestlings of North American Birds, one of his favourite reference books. He said he could use the Internet, but there was something rewarding to him about flipping the pages of words and drawings, and making new discoveries. She especially loved studying the book plates with him, the pages with pictures rather than words. The pictures he said were hand-painted and showed every egg one could ever imagine. Her favourite plate was Plate 38, the one with all the drawings of shorebird eggs. She also liked to look at Plate 10 and 11, as those had drawings of the nestlings— they were so cute with their big feet and fluffy feathers. There was no plate for her Phoebes, but she could not complain, the birds never failed to share with her their eggs, nests, nestlings and themselves, literally at her back door.

Your Turn

See if you have a reference book about birds. If not, why don’t you head to your local library online, with your parent’s permission of course, and search their bird reference books or check out the Audobon's Guide to North American Birds. Pick your top three favourites. Better still, pick your favourite bird and do your own research. Write your own scientific reference about your favourite bird. Here are some questions to get you started. Is it found around your home? Where would you have to travel to see your favourite bird in the winter?

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Chapter 9: Quirky

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The Phoebes had stollen Taylor’s heart the moment she heard them, but the clincher was watching the male and female bob their tails up and down and all around, “Like they were stirring up some oatmeal,” her grandmother said. They would sit on the slimmest of branches, saying their name and stirring their tails. Grandma said they were very helpful to us humans, eating up insects that would make us miserable when we did our outside chores. The adults like to hang out in the bird bath, too, drinking and bathing, so they kept the water fresh when the weather got warmer, changing it every couple of days. Grandma also told Taylor the nest would be spotless when the nestlings became fledglings. Their feces, the waste material that comes out of their bottoms, is contained in a clear sac. The parents then take that sac and either drop it somewhere in our garden or eat it. Full of nutrients, Taylor’s grandmother says. “It would be like eating your diaper, Taylor. I would do anything for you, but I would draw the line at eating your diaper,” Lily would say. “So I guess Phoebes are a little bit quirky,” Taylor would say, “But that’s the way I like them.”

Your Turn

Well it is your turn—time to write chapter 10 of the story. Where did the Phoebes decide to nested and what happened in spring 2020? Use what you have learned about Phoebes in this story, researched online or in a reference book, and make sure to include your drawings, too.

Let us know if you would like us to write more chapter books about nature in your neighbourhood by emailing plowe@cloca.com.

Stay safe, stay healthy and (if possible) stay home.

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