This is the last photo of the robins this past Saturday. It is amazing how they changed over the week.
All of my baby birds have fallen prey to raccoons or cats. Barry found one of the robins barely alive at the base of the tree–cold and barely holding on to life. The parents were hopping around the branches and so we hoped that if we put the baby back in the nest it would be fed and warm, but they didn’t go back. The night was rainy and cold.
A couple of days before we found our birdhouse that had been full of baby sparrows on the ground— something had reached in and pulled 3 bald little bodies out, mangled them a bit, but left them there. We reattached the house to the fence thinking there must be something left inside, and sure enough, the mama fluttered out. She came back with a beak full of grubs, hopping along the ground, searching for the little bodies. It was so sad. Eventually she did go back in the house, came and went, came and went. There must have been one left in there. A few mornings later, though, a paw had obviously been reaching in. Fluff, feathers, grass strewn all over. No more sparrows.
It is amazing how precarious life is– how beautiful in its beginnings, how fragile and short it can be. Hopefully that mama robin will make a better choice in the location of her next nest– somewhere sheltered and high, where new eggs can be laid and set on and hatched.
On a totally unrelated note, I turned 30 yesterday. It was pretty anti-climactic. I spent the day recovering from a weekend full of house guests (my parents, 3 of my brothers, 2 sisters in law, 3 nephews and a niece came all the way from Idaho for Brenna’s eighth birthday and baptism) and a serious kidney infection.
I did get a new cookbook, a very cool new camera lens, and bought myself a springform pan because I think I am now mature enough to learn to make real cheesecake. All of these things deserve their own posts, so I will report back as my crazy-getting-ready-to-move life permits.