Brooklyn's public bird bath
every creature is enjoying NYC's weather this week... even the narcs
Lately, I’ve been making a beeline to the native plant garden when I visit the BBG. It’s on the back edge of the garden, surrounded by a wooden fence with decorative iron-inlay doors that make it feel a little bit like a secret. With a woodchip-laid path that meanders through shrubbery and ferns in the cool shade of tall native trees, it’s perhaps the least glamorous of all the gardens. But along that path lies something magical.
A tiny creek runs through the garden, flowing beneath bent tree branches and alongside climbing vines with heart-shaped leaves. It’s quite small, nothing beautiful and babbling, but a running creek nonetheless. And if you’re a bird, it’s the perfect spot for bathing.
Take a seat on the wooden edge of the path for no more than 60 seconds, and a little sparrow, black grackle, fat robin, or yellow finch will swoop down for a drink and a bath, just ten feet away.
And they’re so cute! Bathing birds instantly turn into the most awkward versions of themselves, wet and soggy with their water-darkened feathers puffed out all around them. Sometimes they splash around for a few minutes, saturating their feathers before just… sitting there, like they’re relaxing in a public pool. Simply enjoying the cool water, as we all do when we swim.
I sit across the path and listen to the trickle of water, the wind in the trees, the quiet rush of cars down Flatbush Avenue on the other side of the garden, and the hushed fluttering of feathers splashing in the water. And every single time I arrive at the creek, there’s a blue jay there, making the biggest splashes of anyone.
His blue feathers are the most beautiful to look at as he bathes, but he’s the smartest bird at the creek: He immediately sees me watching and flies away, the heavy sound of wet wings taking him onto a low branch where he can hop-hop-hop, up into its leaves while keeping a shiny black eye on me. The other birds don’t see me, or just don’t mind my presence. But he certainly does.
After a few minutes of watching other birds play, I’ll sometimes hear a wet flapping out of my sight, and the blue jay will be bathing right behind me! He flies away just as soon as I slowly turn my head, making loud cries or strange warbles. The other birds aren’t so afraid, but he is so smart, so aware. He senses me as a voyeur, somehow knows I’m more than just a visitor taking a water break.
I imagine the blue jay as the overbearing manager of the bath, overseeing everything and working to keep everyone safe. If only they would listen! Sigh.
what’s blooming today
NYC has been glorious this week. 79 degrees and sunny, with light fluffy clouds and a cool, constant breeze flowing through the trees lining the sidewalks. The type of weather that makes you feel like you’re in the opening of a romcom, even when you’re just running to the bodega for a box of seltzer. It calls for rooftop happy hours and picnics on the waterfront.
When the city feels alive with possibility and joy like this, it makes every sweltering July morning and freezing January night worth it. It’s the reason why we all live here—or maybe just me.
Here’s what’s blooming at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden this week:
Waterlilies in butter yellow, angelic white, glowing salmon, warm purples, and bubblegum pinks,
Spicy-scented marigolds bigger than your fist,
Shiny turquoise dragonflies on fluffy pink phlox,
Tiny white crepe myrtle petals trembling in the breeze,
Plants with dynamic shapes on their stems: Green trumpet flowers, flat grass pods, and psychedelic purple passionflowers catching the sunlight,
Pale wildflowers like Queen Anne’s lace summoning the bees.
