From my front door I watch a Robin on her nest, 5 feet away.
She no longer flies off when the door is opened, or we walk past.
Wednesday morning the wind howled and rain fell, thunder clapped and lightning flashed. She remained on the nest, securely tucked under the eave of the porch, in the crook of the gutter’s downspout – the nest wedged between it and the right pillar of the porch.
Wednesday night a frost warning was issued. As a precaution, I covered my tender houseplants that now reside on my front porch. I wished for a small blanket to place over the Robin to keep her cozy.
Thursday morning, at 6 a.m., the temperature dipped to 36 degrees. Frost covered the cars and rooftops. On the nest, only inches from the porch roof, sat the Robin. I wondered how she fared in the cold. As if in reply, she turned her head to look at me.
Building the nest and incubating the eggs is her job and she takes it seriously. She rarely leaves the nest now – only doing so when the day is late and the air has warmed. Yesterday, late afternoon, I saw her hopping around the yard with her mate, devouring insects and vigorously pulling worms from the ground.
When she returned to her nest she looked fat and satisfied.
Papa Robin’s work will begin in earnest when the eggs hatch. His responsibilities will include feeding and caring for the hatchlings.
As I watch the Robin on her nest, I think of Daughter in Love and Son. She is now on medical leave and settling in to await the birth of her daughter. Son hovers, attentive and eager.
Am I excited? You betcha!