When we lost power last weekend, there were high winds at the time. Very high. To my dismay, the next morning I spotted three birds’ nests that had been ripped from my trees by the gusty gale. Although saddened by the loss of home for my animal friends, I was encouraged that most of the nests were apparently empty, as I found only one poor creature who didn’t make it.
There was, however, one nest that smartly survived the bluster. It was snugly secured above a crook in my downspout, safely beneath the protective overhang of my home’s eave. A good thing too, has it was home to three baby robins. I noticed them that morning during my inspection of the storm’s damage. By the time I took a picture later that day, one had already left the nest.
Upon checking later in the day, I spooked another. With instinct overcoming him, and a mighty squawk and sputter, he took to flight. I was witness to the first flattering, yet successful, flaps of his wings. His parents were aghast, making quite a fuss in the process. One flew near to where he landed and another served as an irritating distraction, with a cacophony of sound and sight.
By the next day, the youngest sibling had likewise “flown the coop.”
The nest is still there, empty, but ready. Robins often have two broods a year, so mom and dad may be back for a repeat performance later this summer.