I woke at 4 this morning and was lying in the near-light, the silence, when quite promptly at 4:20, the dawn chorus began. Not as loud and fulsome as May mornings but still lovely — the Swainson’s Thrushes, the robins, others I can’t distinguish in the complex braid of whistles. They’re almost liquid, like water, those notes falling from the air.
Yesterday it was very hot here and it seemed the mother robin was off her nest more often than on it. John expressed doubt that there was any life inside it, given the heat and the absences. This morning is cooler and when I saw the bird glide away from the nest, through the fringe of wisteria leaves, I quickly brought the camera and this is what it saw. It, not me, because I didn’t want to disturb the nest or the bird for longer than the five seconds it took to hold the camera up over the nest and click.
Just think — in less than two weeks, if we’re lucky, we’ll watch these offspring glide from the nest themselves, out into the wild blue yonder. (I just typed “wonder”. That too.)