Robin update Part I: Bad news, Good news

Yesterday morning I let BTWD (Baily the Wonder Dog)out to do her thing while I ate breakfast. Typically, she'll go out, run around for awhile, and show up at the back door begging to be let back in within a few minutes. Lately, however, she's been content to stay outside and sniff at the deck boards above the robin's nest that I've been telling you about. Yesterday, she didn't even come back up on the deck...she was content to stay down in the yard. In fact, I had to call her several times to finally get her to come in. This was clue number one that something wasn't right.

I noticed clue number two when she finally came in. She was literally foaming at the mouth. Not the mad-dog-Atticus-get-your-gun type of foaming, but the frothy spit that means she's been nibbling on something pretty excitedly. Those of you with big dogs will know what I'm talking about. Those of you with cats won't.

Clue number three came when I got home from school yesterday afternoon. Momma bird was setting on the fence making her alarm call before I even let BTWD out into the yard. When I finally did let the big black beast out, momma bird was as bold as I've ever seen her, making repeated dive bomb swoops, and diligently sharpening her beak on her perch between attacks. That's when I finally realized that I should probably check things out.

Sure enough, right at the bottom of our deck stairs was what remained of one of the fledgling birds. While it's impossible to know if the bird was dead before Bailey got to it, or if it died of lab attack, what was left post-mortem was pretty torn up. So I had an impromptu little solo birdie funeral, wrapped the poor little guy up in a baggie, and gave him as dignified a burial as I could in our garbage can. All the while telling Littlemagette (who was quite curious about all of this) that I was scooping up some really messy Bailey poop.

After the Weldon Enterprises burial, I returned to the back yard and heard a new sound. It was momma robin, setting in her usual spot on the fence...but instead of the shrill alarm call I've grown used to, I heard a much deeper, throatier call. It was almost as if she was asking us a question. I listened to it for a minute before realizing that it was a searching call. She was vocalizing in an attempt to locate her missing chick. It was truly a heartbreaking sound.

Almost as if on cue, though, her searching call was answered by a short little peep which sent her zooming across the yard. When she landed on our shed, I could hardly believe my eyes. There, clinging desperately to the sloped roof, was a second fledgling robin! I got to watch him for a couple of seconds before he flapped his wings twice and disappeared over the fence and out of our lives. Momma bird followed right behind him, and while I can't be sure, I like to think that in that moment she and I felt a common emotion of grief overcome by joy.

I don't know what happened to that second little bird. The odds are definitely against him. But I have to think that being able to get out of that nest, past BTWD, and over the fence means he's a survivor that has at least a chance.