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An Airstream for the birds
The Springtime afternoon is cooling into the eve, I'm relaxing in the yard, beer in hand, gloating and glorifying about what a magnificent specimen my 1968GT, shining in the low sun, has become. Five years of care and patience has truly..… But Wait! Who's that sticking his head out of my range hood vent?? It's Mr. Wren.
I know what's going on here, and it won't be happening.
For years, every Spring, he arrives early and prepares three or four of the many birdhouses that I have on nearly every fencepost surrounding my yard. Mrs. wren arrives a week later, selects one of his prepared homes and they go to work raising their first clutch. The young fledge, the wrens move to another house, and do it again. Sometimes three clutches a year. All summer long, I willingly suffer the incessant racket of the chipper and chatter that is their song.
Slightly annoyed, I pick a few sticks out of the vent and plug it with a rag. Then get to realizing, that he too, finds the Airsteam irresistible, so perhaps I should accommodate him with one of his own.
I had a chunk of porcelain clay laying around, so I pinched and paddled and whittled and poked at it until it looked sorta like an Airstream trailer. Cut a wren-sized hole in it, mopped some bright metallic glaze on it, and fired it to 2300F.
Ready for occupancy. Wish it was that easy making mine...
Happy Mother's Day
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