There seemed to be a flurry of activity on our back deck.
Random strings of dead grass and weeds were being strewn across the wooden planks.
I realized a bird was trying to construct a nest on the top of our back deck light.
A nice, convenient flat top, sheltered under the eaves, a perfect spot.
Or so Mrs. Robin thought.
I questioned her judgment, given that it was right next door to a sliding patio door, that would open and close any number of times on any given day, especially now that the nicer, warmer weather was here.
And so I helped her to make another choice.
I taped a red plastic cup to the top of the back deck light.
Now it would hopefully no longer seem as hospitable as it once was.
I was wrong.
Mrs. Robin still approved of the location, however the next day there were still strings of dead grass and weeds now being tucked behind the bright red cup.
I had to think fast.
How to deter this lovely, beautiful bird and yet not offend her or affront her feelings in any way.
And so, I once again removed the lovingly arranged strings of dead grass, and proceeded to rearrange the cup position so that it was completely unhospitable to her advances.
I was sad at having to do so.
Was she about to lay her eggs? Desperately seeking an appropriate place to build her nest so she could lay her babies?
All I did know was that if she made her nest there, she would be constantly stressed about the comings and goings of the human inhabitants inside and the noise and commotion of the sliding glass doors and screen and all of that.
Not to mention the BBQ being uncovered and used for cooking and all of the associated activities that warmer weather brings.
Several days went by, and although I saw Mrs. Robin in the backyard, surveying the situation and wondering what she should do, I saw no attempts at rebuilding the next on our back deck light.
I was relieved.
And yet oh-so-curious as to where she could have gone? What location would have been more suitable than our own backyard?
The neighbours? Perhaps.
And I shan't begrudge her.
I was an inhospitable host at best.
However, again, she thought otherwise.
A few days later, I noticed stringy bits of dead grass and twigs being strewn about the edge of the deck, just below a branch of our Japanese Variegated Willow Tree.
Mrs. Robin had discovered another area to her liking - and it was more to our liking too.
The branch of one of the trees seemed just the perfect spot for her to build a nest.
And she wasted no time at it.
I dare say within a day of uninterrupted nest-building time, it was done.
And by all accounts, it looked gorgeous!
A solid, round mass with several loose tendrils of grass trailing out.
Perfect!
And a few days after that, we noticed that she was actually sitting in the nest!
That was a Wednesday.
Were there eggs?
Was she just getting settled and accustomed to the new abode?
Oh no - there were babies to be had!
A sneak peak when Mrs. Robin was out getting food found two absolutely beautiful bright blue robins eggs!
Mrs. Robin was going to be a mom!
A bit of research showed that it takes about two weeks for incubation before hatching, and then two weeks before the fledglings leave the nest.
So, Mrs. Robin has been under our scrutiny ever since.
Ever careful not to offend her when I pop out in the morning to top up the bird bath with water.
Always mindful not to worry her when I pick at the dandelions and do garden cleanup.
Hubby is worried she might attack to defend her nest.
I don't think she would do that - I am more concerned she will be stressed by human presence and abandon her nest.
It seems when threatened, there is an alarm sound made in the area by her mate.
When she searches for something to eat, her mate sits on a branch to watch the nest.
She is ever so watchful and careful.
She often stands to the side and ever so carefully seems to turn the eggs, even talking to them, encouraging them in their developmental ways.
She is a good mom.
She shifts her position often; standing and stretching, perching on the side and then returning over them to keep them warm, incubating them, head to tail, tail to head.
She is a very good mom.
The leaves of the willow tree have not fully grown in yet, giving us a great view of the goings on amidst their branches.
The pair of robins seem to be respectful of each other, one guarding the nest while the other gets some sustenance.
She is watchful of the house - noticing with her full, open eye that the shutters are closing, the lights are going on or off, the sliding door is being opened and closed.
I am ever hopeful that she makes it through each and every night; doesn't fall victim to predators of any kind.
I am grateful to see her in the morning, even though it has only been a few days.
We are mindful of her; she doesn't seem to mind if we use the BBQ, as it is at the far end of the deck away from her.
She accepted me once sitting on the rocking loveseat late one afternoon, not budging or flying away, sheltered by the leaves and branches.
It has been cool overnight these past few nights, getting down to the single digits.
And yet there she is each morning, huddled onto her nest, protecting her eggs and keeping them warm.
There has been rain too - not a warm summer rain - but a cool spring rain.
Nonetheless, she is remaining put; guided by instinct to keep her eggs warm and protect them.
I try to choose my garden cleanup moments when she has flown away to get something to eat.
I do not want to deter her from her duties; do not want to stress her out anymore than she probably already is.
I thought I heard something on the deck the other night - worried it might be a raccoon ready to tear the nest apart and have the eggs for a snack.
I opened the shutters and shone a flashlight out into the darkness; nothing.
Everything was still intact in the morning.
A few days later, Mr. and Mrs. Robin are still tending to their nest.
Hubby cut the grass, but she simply flew to a nearby fence and sat there, waiting, squeaking a warning chirp, until he was done.
She does not seem to mind me in the morning as I refill the bird bath with water, and carefully curate the garden, removing some weeds and other unwanteds.
She does not seem to mind when I sit out on the deck in the late afternoons, carefully avoiding eye contact with her so she does not see me as a threat.
I did walk too close one afternoon and she chirped at me very loudly and then flew away.
Sorry!
Won't do that again.
*****TEN DAYS LATER*****
Mr. and Mrs. Robin were still doing tag team egg guarding and feeding rotations today.
I had a chance to sneak a peek at the nest when they were both gone and found FOUR bright blue robins eggs! Somewhere along the way, she had two more eggs!
I also heard a noise under the deck in the late afternoon.
That could only mean one thing.
Sure enough, I went downstairs to check the basement window well under the deck, and there was a mama raccoon and FIVE kits.
I was sickened.
Disheartened.
I knew this was not going to end well.
I know raccoons are ruthless pillagers, blights, carnivores and opportunists.
Despite their cuteness, and I will give them that, they are malevolent, merciless bastards.
I had a feeling that might be the end of the robin's nest.
There was not much I could do; I thought of ways I could get rid of the raccoons, but it was a Sunday evening now and on a long weekend no less. No critter ridder would come if I called.
I braced for the worst.
I didn't hear anything overnight, despite leaving the screen open.
This morning, I looked out around 6 a.m., and I thought I saw Mrs. Robin on her nest.
Phew, I thought! Dodged a bullet there.
I went downstairs to watch the raccoon mama and her babies. It was fascinating. Reminded me of Princess when she had her five kittens, all suckling and struggling to find the best teat. Mrs. Raccoon just lay prone on her back, splayed out for all the world, as her kits suckled away. She had given up. It looked very painful. I am sure they have little pointy teeth.
I hadn't seen Mrs. Robin in at least an hour.
I did see Mrs. Raccoon make her rounds of the garden, poking at worms and grubs and whatever else she found with her big nose.
I didn't see her climb up the tree while I was watching her.
It seemed like she didn't want to get too far away from her kits.
By 9:30 a.m., I still hadn't seen Mrs. Robin.
I went out to top up the bird bath, bringing my cell phone/camera with me. I am able to see into the nest using my cell phone camera reversed on the "selfie" mode. It works like a charm.
As I held it up to the nest, my heart sank into my feet.
There were no eggs.
Nothing.
Nada.
No eggshells, no residue, empty.
Somehow, Mrs. Raccoon had found the nest, through scent or listening, and decimated it.
Yesterday, it had looked like one of the eggs was starting to hatch; there was a white bit on the end, like a baby was starting to poke its way through.
Perhaps it did, and the noise alerted the predator.
I am so angry I could burst.
I am so sad and heartbroken I am at a loss for what to do.
I know the late, great Steve Irwin used to say "It's Nature's Way!"
Well, sometimes Mother Nature is a bitch!
I am dismayed to see the empty nest now; abandoned and left to rot, once made with love and care just a few days ago, now just an empty shell, a reminder of a pillaging that happened under the dark watch of night.
I still see robins around the yard, hear them singing and courting and hopefully mating.
I understand robins can have up to three nests per year.
I hope this Mr. and Mrs. Robin carries on, moves on, finds another suitable nesting place that is much more safe and secure from those awful raccoons.
I wonder if they feel sad? Feel grief?
I am sure they are instinctively programmed to just get on with things, to accept the loss and try again, onwards and upwards.
They were a great team; a good couple.
I was looking forward to meeting their babies, their sons or daughters, watching them as they fed them, cared for them, as they grew and ultimately flew away.
I am the one left with the grief.
Nature is a cruel mistress, I often tell myself.
And none crueler than this day.