Imagine building a house only to have your better half refuse to live in it - or worse still - smash it to pieces! Imagine having her refuse to live in E.V.E.R.Y S.I.N.G.L.E house you keep building! Weaver husbands have my full sympathy. Truly. Those girlie weavers must be among the most difficult of wives. Unless you're a black widow partner - having your house trashed is a whole lot preferable to being eaten by little wifey.
Summer or winter. Rain or shine. Our homestead is filled with lovely bird song. The biggest flock of feathered residents are these little weavers. The trees lining one side of our house is simply dripping with weavers nests.
The little weaver males busily fly about all day in a mostly fruitless effort to build nest upon nest. Hoping that eventually the difficult partner will be pleased and agree to move in.
We recently had to cut back the branches and were amazed to find that of the 30 odd nests that were on the branches we had to cut down, not a singe one had been lived in. Poor little males.
Weavers must've been born with a double dose of spunk. After cheerfully sweet talking wifey - and receiving a severe reprimand - they take time to preen themselves .... and start over.
Very common in our area, weavers are far from boring. Their persistence is inspiring.
The masterful engineering of those nests are also something to behold. They swing cheerfully about in strong winds pummeling the mountainside. And then one day the tiny responding baby bird sounds drift out. Over time their little voices join the bird song filling the air. Until another set of weavers join the multitudes building. Ever hopeful. Building .....
