Before I wake, my consciousness registers the sounds outside my slightly opened windows. Catbird, check. Finches, check. Crow(s), check. But the Robins are the noisiest, most articulate of the flyers out there these days.
Yesterday, to make things better, I was away most of the afternoon. On my return, before a huge storm (there was a rainbow afterwards), only three heads were peeking over the rim of the now slightly askew, messy nest.
I have no choice but to assume first flight had indeed taken place. There are two, maybe three, older babies in the nest. The three younger ones are still there as of today, hopefully having a bit more room to waggle their wings and preen their breast feathers.
So, the waiting game is still on. My dog is leashed when outside, an indignity for her and for me as well, as I’m not even dressed at times, to go outside. My cat is banished to the front yard, where she waits for squirrels to approach, while she sits quietly and serenely underneath the parked cars.
Hope is that this and even tomorrow, will see the nest empty. Then we will deal with continuation of this prolific bird couple, and whether they are going to move on or try for a second round of romance.