Something was different one morning when I entered my back yard. The dew wet my bare feet as usual. My large black cat predictably lounged in his favorite place under the hemlock bush. The garden gate was as I’d left it – closed.
Then a bird whistled, “We greet you. We greet you. We greet you.”
That was it! There was no scolding yell of the robin—bird song had returned.
That robin had been the tyrant of the trees throughout May and into mid-June. But this morning I didn’t hear or see him. I looked again at my large cat. “I hope you didn’t have anything to do with this,” I said.
“What happened to the robin?” asked my husband when he came in with his harvest of salad greens for dinner. “He’s not screaming or chasing today.”
Now I was concerned. Yes, the robin was annoying—had practically made our backyard unusable. But I hadn’t wished him harm.
I told my friend Steve about the robin who had seemed to claim our backyard as his own private preserve—and that he had suddenly stopped. Steve is a lifelong camper who knows much from observations of nature.
“Ever see a baby robin?” he asked.
“No. But I’m sure they have them.”
“Your robin was protecting his young. They must have left the nest,” he said.
Seems Steve was right. What really convinced me was the starling that took over the front yard shortly after the robin’s reign of terror ended. I located its nest in the weeping cherry tree in front of the house. Whenever we crossed the lawn to the car it scolded loudly. And it chased after my little orange cat yelling, “Cat, cat, cat,” so that she always scurried back into the house. Thank goodness that lasted for only a week.
The cardinals have reappeared—two pairs of them—as have a couple of tufted titmouses (titmice?) The mourning doves and sparrows still visit. They were never intimidated. We even see an occasional gold finch flit through the cone flowers. And I do see a pair of robins browsing through the grass each afternoon. Life’s so much more peaceful now that we have an empty nest.
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