Angelica is out digging worms in a pile of soil by the garden. She is as entranced with the small family living in the nest and in the trees (the parent robins spend more time in the firs near their nest than on the beam by the actual nest and given the loud cries of their single remaining offspring, who can blame them?) as we are and since her arrival yesterday, she’s been filling the saucer with worms to help out the parents. There’s an added dimension to this — and that’s Lucy, Angie’s lithe black cat who accompanied her from Victoria. Lucy loves being here, having visited several times a year during her life with Angie. She prowls around, catching the occasional tiny wandering shrew. She’s only allowed outside if someone watches her and so far, so good. When we had cats ourselves, the robins never built so close to the house. But obviously this pair didn’t expect a visit from Lucy.
So here’s the lanky robin nestling with its devastating eyebrows.
All day I’ve been thinking of Tess Gallagher’s beautiful poem, “Bird-Window-Flying”:
I could see the memory of light
shining water through your wings. You
were gray with it. The window
had aged you with promises.
I remember this young bird’s wings when they didn’t yet have feathers. In three days, I expect it will be learning to fly.