All these kids

My resident robins had been expecting for some time, and when I saw Dad depart their nest beneath the garage eaves yesterday with what appeared to be poo in his beak, I figured the bundles of joy had arrived.

I had confirmation today when I saw Mom perched atop a fencepost, an earthworm wriggling in her beak. She seemed tired, and lost in thought.  Perhaps:  Why didn’t I insist he wear a condom?

After a long minute, she gathered herself and banked cleanly through the branches of the ash tree, ascending sharply at the last second for a perfect landing on the lip of the nest box.babiesclose

That’s when I saw them:  at least four fuzzy little heads, each equipped with a beak opened skyward to the width of the Grand Canyon.

Voracious. Relentless. Impossible.

Parenting is a 50-50 deal for robins. So Dad is also running and flying himself ragged, dive-bombing squirrels and other potential predators that venture near, and hustling grub while Mom sits the nest to keep the youngsters warm. And, of course, removing poo. (“Honey, would you take out the trash?”)

I’ve observed him, too, frozen in a kind of daze, his beak full of bug and his brain, perhaps, of thoughts parallel to his mate’s:  God, I’m an idiot.  But she looked so pretty after that third beer.

Their weariness brings to mind a domestic scene from It’s a Wonderful Life, in which George Bailey, at the end of his rope,  comes home to a cacophony of needy children, and loses it: “You call this a happy family?” he grouses to his wife. “Why did we have to have all these kids?”georgew.kid

Of course, by the end of the movie,  George’s angelic encounter has restored a sunnier perspective, and we can infer that he and Mary will again get their courtship on, with the inevitable result.

The same is likely for my robins, a species that typically raises two to three broods a summer. In a week or so, their first kids will have fledged, and, after a decent interval, Dad will again lasso the moon for Mom, who will deposit another clutch of eggs in the nest.

And a couple of weeks after that, I will see it again: the beak full of food; the long, weary pause.

And then back to the nest, and all those kids.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

This post originally appeared three years ago;  it repeats now to honor the new season’s busy bird parents in my yard:  wrens and finches.

Advertisement

6 comments

  1. Warren Lee Epstein · · Reply

    Speaking of which … why did we have all those damn kids?! … Love it, Cate.

    Like

    1. Thanks, Warren!

      Like

  2. Getting caught up after being in wet, wet Iowa for a week. This is just fabulous. I keep bursting out laughing while reading it, and my co-workers are surely raising eyebrows. The thought of a robin-size condom … ha!

    Like

    1. Ah. Welcome back to dry-as-tinder Colorado! I bet you miss that wet now. “My” baby wrens fledged yesterday and today, and baby finches are fledging today. I’ve got a little bird down in the driveway but I think it may be sick rather than a fledgling. Seen a lot of sick wild birds this summer; I wonder if drought is playing a part.

      Always good to hear from you, Sweetie. 🙂

      Like

  3. Still love it. You paint(ed) a wonderful picture! And your sense of humor continues to delight me, Cate

    Like

    1. Thank you, Rafiki.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: