Only a couple of days ago, the baby robins – their little heads marked by wild bits of hair – could barely peek above the edge of the nest. Only when Mama flew in with a worm did they crane upward, their beaks wide open. I could not tell how many babies filled the nest. Two for sure. More than that? Impossible to tell.
Yesterday, however, the nest was packed. One of the young – probably the first to hatch – stood high in the nest, her speckled breast beginning to show a tinge of rust. She scanned the horizon, perhaps thinking of her first flight. Meanwhile her younger siblings still huddled low in a nest literally full to over flowing. Of necessity, someone would have to leave soon. There simply isn’t room for all of them to remain, they’re growing so fast.
Today, only one bird remains in the nest. Her beak is wide open as she looks out to the maple tree across the way. Missing the warmth of her siblings? Feeling all alone? Looking for her mother? Hoping for one last meal before she’s on her own?
I scanned the shrubs and trees and lawn, looking for the juvenile robins who’ve gone before her. None were in sight.
As the young launch, I wish them well. I hope they will find lots of worms. I hope they will keep a sharp eye out for nasty predators. I hope they will choose wisely when they build nests for young of their own.
I have many hopes for the robins, as I did for my son when he left the nest. And I am amazed at these robins, as I was with my son, at how quickly they grow.