One of the lovelier aspects of spring returning is the flurry, fluttery returning of birds. I especially like the robins cheerup salutes of this season as they parade on the lawn feasting on worms. No robin poems of notice yet, so this dandy tribute to blue birds will suffice:
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I Woke: —
Night, lingering, poured upon the world
Of drowsy hill and wood and lake
Her moon-song,
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers
On the birches.
Gently the dawn held out to me
A golden handful of bird’s-notes.
There are so many lovely images resounding throughout. I envision summer–standing on a hill overlooking a grassy meadow, the sun slowly cresting the horizon and in that crystalline moment a trill of robin song adds to the joy of another morning, another day of promise.
American Robin — Humber Bay Park (East) (Toronto, Canada) — 2005, by User:Mdf (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
As we have been watching the last batch of robins readying for their imminent departure I found myself humming a tune:
There were four robins in the nest
and the little one said:
“I’m squished. Move over.”
So they all moved over and one flew out,
and there were three in the nest
and third one said:
“I’m squished. Move over.”
So they all moved over and one flew out,
and there were two in the nest
and the second one said:
“That’s better. You good?”
And the first one said,
“Yup. Works for me.”
At least that’s what I think is going on. I had received an update on the baby birds whilst out shopping yesterday (we take our baby birding seriously) and contemplated rushing home to watch the event. Costco won out and by the time I got home one of the birdies had flown. Towards the evening it looked like another might be heading out but then all three hunkered down into the nest so only the tips of the beaks were sticking up.
Smart birds.
A summer storm kicked in an hour later and that birdie knew the nest was the best place to be if being a baby bird.
This morning I heard a cacophony of cheeping outside my bedroom window. Upon checking I found the third baby robin just below the nest and forlornly indicating its angst of separation anxiety. When it saw me approach it flew up into what I call the launching pine (it’s where all the robins seem to fly from the nest). It hung out there for the longest time. It’s still there and I still hear its lamentable cheeps. I wonder if it’s having second thoughts about leaving the nest?
As I listen to its pitiful cheeps this book came to mind
I think our little bird is saying, “Mom? Mom?” And I hope mom bird stops by and encourages her baby to find flight, grab a worm, and enjoy the sights. At least that’s what I’d recommend.
UPDATE: the birds are gone. Rats. I came home from morning appointments and the nest was empty. I hear scattered cheeps up in the pines and I hope to spot them on the lawn learning how to get their own grub. A couple of pics to share:
Getting Ready
I’m out…now what?
A writer's journey as a reader
Pam Webb 