Robins are strange critters. I saw a fledgling on the ground last week. His mother was nearby and he looked big enough to fly so I didn't butt in. But we have another nesting robin in our woodshed. When I go out to collect wood, you can hear little squeaks and peeps from the nest, so there must be baby birds in it, tiny ones, too wee to fly. Now we've got another robin building a nest on our back porch, on a stepladder, of all things. I cringed a little when I saw what they were doing. I figured that Tim would want to take the nest down and move the ladder, complaining about bird poop splatters on the deck. I wanted it to stay. It was kind of neat to watch the adult robins stopping their work on their nest to look at me looking at them. They were pretty fearless. I thought it would be neat to watch that story unfold up close and personal. Much to my surprise, Tim agreed. The nest stays. (Yay!) Some baby robins are ready to fly, others, just hatched, some of the blue eggs not even laid yet.
We've got a junco that has built a nest into the bank along side the entrance to the cellar. She always scares the bejeebers out of me when I walk out the cellar door and she flies straight at me in a frenzy. Isn't it strange that such a little bird would build a nest in the ground?
It's not just the birds procreating. Last weekend, a friend had twin girls, Emily and Molly. My sister will be a grandma for the first time. Her son and his wife's baby was due May 8th. Tim's brother, Norm, and his wife are also expecting a baby any second.
*drums fingers impatiently*