EMPTY NEST SYNDROME

(Click to enlarge)






Somewhere up in the locust tree, the mother robin is feeling it:

Mrs. R: "It seems like only a few weeks ago they were pecking their way out of the shells, and I wore myself ragged (sniff sniff) keeping those little gaping gullets full of grubs and bugs, and now there they are, all fledged out, sitting on the lawn - the very same lawn (sob) you dropped the empty eggs shells on (dabs eyes with wing). Honey - do you remember?"

Mr. Robin: "Yes, dear, I remember."

Mrs. R: "Oh look, there they are, all together! They look so grown-up! I think two of them take after your side."

Mr. R: "Honestly, my dear, can't tell them apart..."

Mrs. R: (glaring like a Cooper's hawk) Oh, what a terrible thing to say about your own children!!"



At this point my phone rang, so I didn't get to hear the rest of the conversation, to find out if Mr. Robin was able to come up with a save. Yesterday I posted a photo of a baby robin from Wikimedia Commons, because I didn't have any photos of the local babies, but late yesterday afternoon I got one of all three. And those are the eggshells I picked up from the grass and saved. I'm a little sentimental about those babies, too, I guess.