This morning as I took this photo of my Daylily’s just beginning to bloom. They are near the nest where a Robin had her two babies, but all is quiet now. The last few weeks every time I walked near the nest, mama Robin let me know she was watching.

If you recall from a few of my posts, I took great joy in watching the Robin build her nest, then lay eggs, and watched as they came to life. Those baby birds were pure delight to watch grow. I felt a bit protective of them keeping an eye out to make sure no harm came to them.

By Saturday they were quite big and according to my research, they leave the nest within two weeks of hatching, which would mean the latest of tomorrow (Wednesday) before they flew out into the world.

As I walked my gardens on Sunday I noticed two of my limelight hydrangea trees needed adjusting. A few weeks ago, the landscapers had attached twine to a stake in the ground, which was tied around the trunk of each tree to help them grow straight. But they were starting to lean again and the twine needed to be adjusted.

It took some doing to get the knot out of the twine of the tree where the nest was with the two little ones. Mama Robin was scolding me for being near. But I calmly talked to her letting her know I was doing my best to be careful and to get done quickly with this little project.

All of a sudden, the twine let loose from my hand and the tree bounced forward. And with the bounce, out bounced one of the birds. Mom and Dad Robin were very upset, as was the startled baby who proceeded to hop, half fly right into the heavily weeded gully in front of my writing cottage.

I was beside myself. I kept saying, “Oh dear, oh dear. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” I searched and searched in the gully trying to find the little one, hoping I could scoop her up and put her back in the nest.  Though, I also wasn’t so sure that was a good idea if I touched her. I wondered if Mama Robin would then reject her.

But I couldn’t find her and I was beginning to risk slipping and falling down the gully which is quite steep. I gave up the search and hoped with all my heart that little one would find her way.

My heart was very heavy as I walked back into the house just as John was walking into the kitchen. I burst into tears and told him what happened. He hugged me and tried to assure me everything would be okay. He said he felt sure that the mama Robin would likely keep watch and make sure her little one was okay.

I wasn’t so sure. But I did a search on the internet and the information I found was that it was best to not interfere. I had to trust that. Though for the rest of the afternoon, every time I thought about what happened, my eyes filled with tears. If only I had let that tree alone, I kept telling myself.

I reached out to my mom and my friend Dawn via email for words of wisdom. Their thoughts helped me feel a bit better. I certainly meant no harm. And I know in my heart how much I loved having those little ones around. They truly brought me so much joy.

I had to trust that all would work out. I tried not to worry too much and I knew I had to forgive myself. But that was going to take some time.

On Monday morning, the lone little one was still in the nest. As I sat in my writing cottage, looking out the east window where I have a clear view of the nest, I told her I was very sorry for what happened to her sibling.

Later in the morning, John and I went to play some mini golf and then had lunch at a bar and grill nearby. When we got home, I decided it was best to water my gardens. And that’s when I noticed that the little one still in the nest a few hours before, was now gone.

This was actually comforting to me. It gave me great hope that perhaps the other one has made it too – that she was well enough along to be okay. As I watered the gardens I heard a Robin tweeting away again (like she did when I got near the nest) and saw she was in a tree in the gully above the area I last saw the fallen baby bird. I’ve chosen to take this as a very good sign that all has worked out.

But I’ll tell you one thing… it was a tough lesson to learn, and I’ll never do that again.

 Thank you for sharing and subscribing to my blog updates.