Listening to the Bushtits in the Chaos

Bushtits are one of those birds I get to enjoy year round here in New Mexico. I almost always hear their high-pitched, sharp yet quiet calls well before I see their nondescript gray bodies flitting among the trees. They seem to never be alone and move as a group through the juniper-piñon forests with such ease. They’re easy to miss, but I always try to appreciate that they move through the world with such a sweetness and innocence that most of us have long ago forgotten.

A few weeks ago, I saw a bushtit pulling at last year’s webs of the orb weavers and flying off to a tree close to the house. I kept watching and saw they had picked the most clever spot nestled within the piñon branches, well hidden and protected. Generally, we give space to the orb weavers to weave their intricate and almost perfect looking spider webs since they do their fair share of catching flies through the summer. From years of watching the orb weavers, we’ve learned to leave their webs alone even when they are no longer occupied. We do this because it takes them two years to fully grow and more than once we have seen orb weavers “repair” old webs in the spring rather than building completely new ones. Why tear something down that nature is going to reuse?

It was so cool to see the bushtits gathering the spiderwebs and repurposing them as they expertly wove their hanging nest, and it was a reminder of the great interdependence among living beings. Over the days, I marveled, from a distance, at all that got woven into the bushtits nest including the beautiful lichen they had carefully selected. But what brought me the most joy was when I noticed how the bushtits had used our late Great Pyrenees Penelope’s fur throughout their nest. In particular, they had carefully used her soft fur in the entrance at the top of their nest. Through the years, I have found Penelope’s fur in many bird nests and this year it was particularly moving as we had just lost her a few weeks ago; it brought tears to my eyes knowing her presence and protection are still here.

Bushtit nest - May 2025

As the bushtits seemed close to finishing the construction of their hanging nest, nature had unexpected plans as the weather changed and we had several days of severe thunderstorms. Throughout these days of storms, we had too many hail storms to count including the most extreme hailstorm I have experienced since living in this location. The hail was intense and knocked down so many pine needles from the piñons that it smelled intensely of pine outside in a way I have never experienced before. Between the wind, hail, and intense rain, I watched from inside wondering what had happened to the nest. As the sun finally came out I went to check the damage to the nest of the bushtits. Observing from afar, the nest made it through the storms seemingly intact. A few days later, it was confirmed that all was well as I could see the bushtits going in and out of their nest. They really had picked an ideal location to raise their family.

We are living through such intense times. The gravity of how people and communities are being harmed daily feels inescapable, yet the birds are still building nests and preparing for the next generation. I can’t help but think of all we can learn from them…. How we can benefit from watching bushtits and how they move together as a group, almost appearing as one unit in the same direction. Staying in the curiosity of what it will take to get a large enough collective moving in the same direction to stop facism and move towards a better world for all of us. All that we can learn from being in the present moment and weaving many things together for the world we need in our “metaphorical nests”, like the idea of collective liberation, healing so much that has been broken with ourselves and in the world, and valuing our planet in a way that leads to changing our ways to save that which gives us life every day.

The bushtits seem to have it figured out. Will we?