Phoebes Nest in Our Front Porch

Living in Place

Phoebes Nest on our Front Porch

Every year, Eastern Phoebes nest in our front porch.

In the first years we lived in our house, phoebes built nests on unsustainable perches: in a hanging basket buffeted by the wind one year, drowned by water coming off the eaves another; and finally, they attached their nest on top of the porch light, and their babies fell out. A blind, dead, featherless chick is a sad, sad way to be greeted at the front door.

We thought the adults would eventually figure out better homebuilding techniques and breed a successful family, but our patience for their slow learning curve finally ran out. We intervened and built the phoebes a sturdy, sheltered, nesting shelf high in a corner of the porch. They’ve been returning and breeding successfully ever since.

The sturdy, sheltered, nesting shelf for the phoebes in the top right. Just below and to the left is a mud dauber nest for wasps also living outside the house.

The front door is on the north side of the house. Snow slides off the garage roof, burying the front walkway. We don’t shovel the path, forcing visitors through the woodshed to the back door and into the mud room, where they’re encouraged to leave their boots. The phoebes arrive within weeks of the snow melting, allowing us to use the front door after a long winter.

Once the birds take up residence, we still encourage entrance around back. When someone does approach via the front path, whichever bird is minding the nest flits out and twitches its tail from the nearby shrubbery, rasping its phoebe, phoebe, phoebe until the intruder takes the hint and departs.

Regardless of what the phoebes think of me, I consider them my neighbors, and I keep my eye out for them and their offspring. The other day, I found a hatched shell below the nest and noticed the parents are suddenly more active, fetching insects for their young flycatchers.

It usually takes a week before I can catch a glimpse of the babies; when I do, what first comes into view are the chicks’ giant beaks, entirely out of proportion with the rest of their tiny, meagerly feathered bodies. But it doesn’t take long for them to grow, and before long, they’re hanging off the edge of the shelf where their nest rests, spattering their guano down below. Shortly after that, they fledge, and the female starts over again. Most years, she raises two, and sometimes three, broods of chicks.

We also have bats.

The phoebes are not the only animals living rent-free in our home. We also have bats residing in a bat house we installed high up on the south face of the building. It’s their guano – like mouse dung – that alerts us they’re in residence. Cleaning up after them is a small price for the service they provide eating insects, which allows us to sit outside without the mosquitos, gnats or black flies bothering us. As dusk falls, we watch the bats emerge and go to work.

And mice.

Both phoebes and bats are insectivores. Not mice, who move indoors, nest in the textiles stored in the attic, nibble the dry goods in the basement, and gnaw at the cabin air filter of my car in the garage. I dislike setting traps as much as I dislike mice in the house. Maybe--just maybe--it’s time to look for a new cat.

What wild creatures live in or around your home? How do you coexist? Reply in the Comments.

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