My foolish LBJs

(Photo by Don Dale, 2011)

For the second time in three years, a bird who didn't think things through built a nest in my front porch light fixture. This year it happened last week.

Some random LBJ worked hard to create this place to lay her eggs.

(What's an LBJ? It's a "little brown job," a term birders use for a small brown bird they can't identify. I couldn't recognize my LBJ's species because I'm not much of a birder and because I saw it only a couple of times for a few fleeting seconds.)

My front porch light fixture is a moronic place to build a nest. It's cozy enough, but when the digital timer turns the 40-watt bulb on at sunset, it toasts the nest.

I realize I could disable the digital timer, but that would mean a few weeks of fumbling in the dark to find the front-door keyhole. That was a sacrifice I wasn't prepared to make for a random LBJ.

I learned for a fact three years ago that my front porch light fixture is not the right place for a nesting bird. When a nest appeared in the fixture, I was mildly excited. I thought I'd get a close-up view of the whole process and the birth of a few baby LBJs. I'd peak through the front window occasionally and see my LBJ sitting on her nest in the daytime, but it was the bright bulb, I imagine, that tended to make her nighttime stays short.

When she was away, I could see tiny eggs at the bottom of the nest.

Weeks passed, and I realized that the LBJ had abandoned her perch and her eggs. Eventually I removed the nest, cracked one of the eggs, and sure enough it was ... hard-boiled.

This year I removed the nest right after I photographed it. Perhaps the LBJ still has time to build another nest and lay her eggs in a more appropriate place.

I hope so.

Or maybe I should invest in a front porch birdhouse for mentally challenged LBJs.