Warning: This post is very, very sad if you are me.
So, those dumb robins that I fell in love with? They’re all gone, dangit. I only blame myself for three of their deaths, though.
If you remember the hailstorm, which I stupidly went out to protect them from rocks falling from the sky, well – the next day there was only one baby bird. Maybe the other three drowned in the ten seconds it took me to leave the nest and mama to come back, or maybe they got too cold, or maybe it was bird flu. (It could happen.) Whatever it was, I beat myself up for it a couple of days and then thought how much better it was for the one survivor to get more of mama’s attention. He was getting fat and happy.
Then today he was gone.
I came home to peek and there was an empty nest! I looked all around, stepping carefully to avoid crushing anyone, then gave up. On the way back into the house I saw him. He was a good five feet from the nest with little bleedy marks on him, so something got him.
Dang. Dang. Dang.
Dang. If you want to see him, he’s here.
I buried him next to the cats. His ghost can torment their ghosts for a while.
Sorry, robins. Now stay away from my house!