Early
this month I found a broken blue eggshell in the garden. Thinking
crows had been nest raiding I tossed it aside with a sigh, scanning
branches for just one sign of life. It wasn't until the week past
when they made their presence known with their soft squeaks from the
treetops. Two young robins kept their parents searching from sun up
to sun down for food.
After a
few hours Saturday they finally accepted me in “their” domain
planting this, pruning that, and digging up a bountiful feast while
their parents watched from above. A flick of the wrist, a flutter of
wings, and soon there would be a juicy worm dangling from a parents
mouth while the chicks opened wide. A cacophony of FEED ME! NO FEED
ME!
One of
them roosted on a branch over the pergola, watching me intently
trying to blend in. It didn't fool me because I could still hear the
squeaks and clucks from empty tummies. It was a busy day that began
at sunrise and didn't end until
after dark when
the chickies were tucked in to their nest for a good nights sleep.
I wonder when mum and dad find
their own downtime.
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