So, the nest that we all have watched being built, filled with eggs, then hatching four chicks was on the ground yesterday morning outside our front door. We have a window in our living room that has allowed us to spy on the progress of our bird family without actually disturbing them for the past month. When I opened the front door to take a closer look, there was a smear of...um...possible carnage on the concrete.
I was hoping that perhaps whatever had knocked the nest off had just scared the s**t out of the birds and that's what had gotten smeared.
"Probably", I told the kids who were visibly upset and bordering on tearful, "the mommy and daddy bird were teaching them how to fly and the nest just got knocked over during the lesson".
"The birds still haven't come back Mom" the kids announced this morning.
"Well, if the baby birds are big enough to fly on their own, they don't need to be in the nest anymore. They'll go and build their own nests" I tried to reassure them.
And this morning, we did see two very small robins perched on the roof outside T's bedroom window. "That was probably two of them, hon" I told T. "The other two are probably around here somewhere."
I so, so wanted to believe that. I almost did.
This afternoon I took the trash out via the front door. There was a trail of downy, fuzzy feathers leading out behind the houses. I didn't follow it. I don't want to know. I did try to pick up the clumps so the kids wouldn't see them when we play outside later.
I'm not the biggest fan of the circle of life at the moment.