Expecting Robins

I know it's a silly thing to get so excited about, but I've got a new robin's nest right outside my porch window!

It's been several years since a mama robin has taken up residence in my wall-mounted bird feeder. The location is perfect for raising a new family...it's protected and out of the wind, and right at my eye level for checking on them daily.

I marvel at the way their nests are created. They are so sturdy and solid. If I had to use only my mouth and the roundness of my belly to form a shelter for my babies, my family's future would be in serious jeopardy!

Right now I've caught a glimpse of an egg or two in this mama's nest, although there are usually three. She gets pretty rattled when I appear at the window. Even though I try to be discreet, she detects the movement and escapes to the nearby fence. From there, she scolds me until she feels like it's safe to return home again.

I remember from other years, the rush of happiness I felt when I discovered that the eggs had hatched and there were blobs of bald babies laying at the bottom of the nest. A few days later, I remember seeing heads stretch up with mouths open expectantly as their mother returned with food. I was amazed (yet disgusted) to see how the mother "cleans up" after them seconds after they've had a bite to eat.

They grow up, and as kids do... need to leave the nest. After awhile, the fledglings were much too big to stay, yet, I hated to see them go. I could feel its anxiety as it perched on the edge of the nest, made a lurching forward motion, then settled back down to stay home for a few more hours. The mother waited in a nearby tree, patiently coaching her young one to try its wings and move on with its little bird life.

As much time as I spent sitting by that window hoping to see that big moment, I've never been able to witness it. When I stopped by for a visit later in the day and saw that one baby had gone, I felt sad and anxious, wondering if that little one was finding food, and if it was warm enough. I scanned the yard, looking for cats or other potential predators for my new little fledgling. Ridiculous, aren't I? Imagining one could actually prevent a young bird from growing up or protect it from the dangers of the world.

Why do I spend so much time watching this little miracle happening outside my window? Why do I invest emotional energy into this small part of nature's life cycle? That robin who perches protectively on her nest this morning doesn't know it, but she and I have a lot in common.