Several weeks ago I noticed a couple of robins defending a nest in the scrub oak behind my house. They were being tormented by two scrub jays who seemed intent on ruining the domestic ambitions of the robins. I surmised that the jays had helped themselves to the robin’s eggs. Part of the whole “mother nature” thing. I’m not sure how I feel about the term “mother nature”, considering...well, the stuff that mother nature is capable of.
But anyway, back to my warm fuzzy mother story.
One day after work, earlier this week, I noticed a female robin perched on the edge of the same nest and ensconced snugly inside it were three baby robins. They were juveniles really, spotted as robin teenagers are and tumbling around awkwardly, barely contained within their once adequate home. How did I miss seeing them for so long?
Mama robin was doing the right thing of course, flitting back and forth with morsels for the youngsters and making sure they were tucked in for bed. One of the settings on my camera generated a flash and it made mama sit up straight and look around in my direction. I apologized immediately.
The next morning we had a lovely thunderstorm complete with lightning and an hour or so of showers. When I came downstairs and looked out at the nest, mom was there with wings spread, keeping the kids dry. I grabbed the camera and took a few pictures.
I left for work hoping that I would get to see the babies take their first flight in a day or so but when I returned home later that day the nest was empty. That soon. All the busy, sleepless hours spent nesting and feeding, all the days of sheltering and protecting were over. Just like that. Or so it seemed. The days just do what they do and so do Moms. The kids grow up and everyone can fly.