It’s early evening. A rare day in June, a June about to turn to July. A beautiful, sunny evening, but there’s a restless about it. The wind is kicking up, leaves and branches are swaying, but that’s not it. No, it’s Mother Robin flitting about, perching on a lawn chair and then flying to the nest. We thought all the chicks had fledged yesterday morning, but with my binoculars I can see feathers moving in the nest. No head peeking out, just the faintest sign of life. And now I realize that Mother Robin is bringing food to her babe. I feel apprehensive. Where are the sisters and brothers who got on their way yesterday? There’s nothing I can do but trust the mother. This is her second brood of the season; she knows the territory well. For four weeks she has been relentless in caring for her babies. She won’t stop now.
It isn’t not noisy around here but it isn’t silent in that peaceful way I long for. I’ll know more tomorrow.
P.S. Now we are hearing a lot of cheeping from the ones who have already fledged. As for the one still in the nest, hopefully he is happy with his own developmental rhythm. It is dusk. Soon all will be quiet.