They set up the nest a twig at a time, right in front of our living room window. I would step out onto the front porch and she would swoop down past my head with a mouth full. Each twig was placed carefully. First one blue egg, then two, then three. We watched the momma and pappa take turns on the nest. A wind would come up and blow. The tree and the nest would sway back and forth and the Robin would hunker down and protect the eggs. I would scare marauding cats away and click my tongue at the bird each time I left the house. Soon eggs turned into three open mouthed nestlings. The parents filled the little gullets with worms and an assortment of winged insects. The whole family watched out the window. Then one day the nest lay on the ground with one dead nestling nearby. We had no idea what happened. Then we saw it, one little nestling tucked behind a piece of wood on our porch. The mother bird would come and feed it. The mother must of sensed too many people coming in and out of our front door. We watched out the window while the mother came and got the nestling and led it hop, hop, hop, across our lawn, down the curb, across the street, up the other curb and into the bushes of the house across the way.
