A few weeks ago a mother robin built a nest in the boughs of our crape myrtle tree. It’s a beauty, compact and perfectly fit into the crook of the branches. Eventually, we heard peeping, and once, from my vantage point at ground level, I saw a little beak and head rise above the edge of the nest.
Time passed by, and when the nest became crowded, we could see two additional heads; the nest held three babies.
The mother robin was so diligent feeding them.
Soon they fledged and became bold, standing on the edge of the nest, one at a time, contemplating their first flight.
One by one they flew away. Now I hear them in the pines surrounding our backyard, peeping to their mother. She calls back with the distinctive chirping of a protective mother robin.