Birdies

Once again, a bird has made an unwise real estate decision and set up housekeeping right next to our home (a home full of dogs and loud people). A wee bird has constructed a nest in the bushes right in front of the house, right at eye level. I know very little about birds and she won't allow me to photograph her, so I don't know what type of feathered friend she is. She's a tiny little thing. I know she's not a robin, one of the few birds I am capable of recognizing easily. When a robin built a nest right outside the guest room window last year, she would dive bomb us when we attempted to check out the nest. This bird just flies up to a branch and yells at us from there.

Perhaps a bird-savvy person will be able to tell me what kind of eggs these are. I thought blue eggs were always robins' eggs. But perhaps I have been mistaken all these years? Or perhaps robins are known for foisting off their children on their neighbors? There is one blue egg, one speckled egg, and one tiny bald hatchling.

The whole scene is amazing, really. They always know the exact size to construct the nest and it's sturdy as hell. The robin's nest from last year made it through three seasons after it was abandoned, until P finally plucked it from the tree and disposed of it recently. The hard part for me is that, much like last year's birdie brood, I now feel like I need to fret over something that should probably be taking place a half mile above my head on some shady tree limb in the sky. The tiny hatchling looks barely alive to me, but again, I don't know the first thing about birds. I don't put out bird feeders or anything like that. Inviting birds to my yard feels a little come-into-my-parlor-said-the-spider-to-the-fly-ish to me.

Postscript: I wrote the above (and took the photo) yesterday. When I checked back today, the mama was gone, the baby was gone, and the blue egg was on the ground. I assume something big and scary came along (not my dogs, though, because they don't have access to the front yard). Damn you, Elton John, and your circle of life.