“We’re surrounded by my family,” Andy said as he beckoned me to the garage, where a young cardinal had created a predicament for itself by getting trapped on top of the open garage door. A visit from a cardinal is often seen as a sign that a departed family member is near and saying hello. This year, we think there are two pairs of cardinals taking up residence and raising families in the Steeplechase thuja hedges we have in the front and back yards. On this day, one of the juveniles was hopping to and fro on the garage door, seemingly afraid to jump through the thin opening from which it flew in. Maybe it’s easier to fly up than down, the same way it’s typically simpler to ascend stairs than descend them. Whatever the reason, it stubbornly hopped back and forth, peering over the edge to the driveway below, and listening to the annoyed chirps of its parents in the nearby lilac tree. We watched with amused interest for a while, then Andy made several attempts to shoo it toward freedom, none of which it decided to heed.
Eventually, it grew tired of its game of hide-and-seek and joined its parents. We’ve seen them grow from the tiny strained necks that reached skyward whenever a parent would arrive with a caterpillar or worm, into the little birds that grew increasingly skilled at flying. They’re much more enjoyable than the annoyingly aggressive robins that will dive-bomb you the moment you get within a certain distance of their nests. The cardinals rise above such tactics.
Having them here for the summer has been a gift. When I was watering the hydrangeas in the front yard, I sat in the hidden shade of a Japanese maple and melted into the surroundings, so much so that the cardinals resumed their playful lessons in flying and catching worms. At first I thought they had lost one of their offspring – the way they hovered around, quite visible and not moving when I shifted made me think something was wrong – then I watched as their young ones fluttered about, and the parents watched from a safe distance.
A few days later, I was pulling out of the driveway when a flash of scarlet caught my eye. Right at window level, a male was perched on a lower Thuja branch, simply sunning itself in the bright sun, unbothered by the Mini Cooper that moved slowly past. I managed to take a few quick photos, as seen here. He chirped a curt hello, and I left him to his day.
