A Blessed Event

 

Two robins were perched on my backyard lawn deep in tweeting conversation. Clearly, from their colors, I could determine they were male and female. Their songs and behavior did not come across as a mating meeting. I judged it to be more about real estate. “Hey honey, where do you think we should build that nest? Will that bush do?  Should we build in that tree?” It appeared, to my joy and appreciation that they settled on the pyracantha bush outside my large kitchen window. Good choice! The thorns would keep squirrels and cats away from the nest. The branches are sturdy enough to anchor it. They’ve picked a spot that’s safe, cool and comfortable. Shortly, they got busy gathering twigs, grass, leaves and mud. Wisely, they pulled straw from a neighboring hanging planter. They both do the gathering, but only the female does the nest construction. She needed a few days to complete the architecture which includes weaving and sculpting. We females know how to get things done. This nest is not a bed for the parents; they sleep elsewhere. It is an incubator for the eggs. The perfect nest must serve as a baby cradle to keep the eggs and babies warm, dry and safe.

I really think these robins chose this pyracantha bush because they knew what joy and pleasure it would give my family to be able to watch the entire drama. Every morning, we would start the day with a visit to the blessed event; one egg a day for four days and the incubation period starts. The mom spent most of the day sitting on the eggs, taking occasional time off to grab a bite of insects, worms and caterpillars. During this period, she actually moves the eggs around. In about 2 weeks, hatching begins, one a day. The chick, using its beak, poked a hole in the shell, struggling sometimes the whole day to free itself from the shell. 

What a joy to watch both parents appearing with food for those four hungry little open beaks. Such traffic, parents flying in; parents flying out. Mom still sat on the chicks to keep them warm and dry. The parents have full time jobs. They protect the nest, find food and feed the hungry open mouths. In two weeks, the chicks were the size of their parents. When they were about 2 weeks old, they are fledglings and ready to leave home. Sadly, my family did not witness their departure. In the morning, they were in their cozy crowded nest, and when we looked, later that day, they were gone, without saying goodbye to us. In subsequent seasons, we have never had the joy of watching nature play this familiar role since sadly, the gardener pruned the pyracantha bush.

Tweet! Tweet! Are they mating or discussing the real estate?

Ethyl Haber

May 2022