If you go to any artsy/crafty show in the South (and I HIGHly recommend you do), you will no doubt run across a fair amount of decorative birdhouses. Some are designed to hang in trees, but more often they’re attached to some sort of stake that folks stick in the ground. And you’d be hard pressed to find a lone birdhouse in anyone’s yard. They multiply like tattoos on a hipster…
There’s this house down the road from my dad’s place that has probably 20 birdhouses planted in a row in the front yard. I’ve often thought of stopping to take a photo, but on the one hand I don’t want to be conspicuous and on the other hand I just can’t be bothered to pull over. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Or take a drive down the Florence/Byram road and see for yourself.
Years ago, my mom got swept up in the birdhouse craze, and I must confess that I contributed to her rapidly growing collection. One day she calls me up and says, “You know that bird house you gave me last year for Mother’s Day? Well, I was planting some impatiens next it and the top of it just fell off. I looked down in there and there was a BIRD’S NEST in it!”
Me: “Um, yeah. It’s a birdhouse. What do you expect?”
Mom: “It’s MY birdhouse. It’s not for those BIRDS to go around making nests in. I took the nest out, but the other day I was out there and I saw a BIRD fly out of it!”
Me: “Well, if you don’t want birds in there, you’ll have to cover the hole so they can’t get in.”
Mom: “But then it wouldn’t look as pretty.”