Eggs!

It used to be that each year, a Robin family would build a nest in the small space above the ceiling fan over the deck. This always ended in tragedy as one by one, the baby birds made their way to the skimmer basket in the corner of the swimming pool or to Henry's stomach or somewhere in-between. One time, I heard a fallen bird squalling below the deck and decided to help. But from the vantage of the concrete patio under the deck, it sounded as if the crying bird was above my head. Looking up and circling slowly, I was so intent on that sound--I barely noticed the slight crunch of what could have been a small oak twig under my shoe. The squawking stopped. I was so so sad.

We thought the problem was solved a couple of winters ago when David plugged up the favorite nesting spot before anyone could lay claim to it. But our plan sprung a leak. This year's Robin family chose to nest on the floor of the deck, just out of reach from dogs and Downs children. Mama Robin sits faithfully, each day enjoying a king's view of her world. She is protected from hail storms and other hazards inherent to so many nesting sites. She is blistfully unaware of the certain doom that lurks in her family's future.