Late last week the robins that nested on my downspout began acting strangely--much more vocal, dive bombing me, etc. I am guessing this was because their two babies would be leaving the nest soon.
Sunday, I was laying out a soaker hose when a ruckus erupted above me. All of a sudden the two babies were on the ground, and they looked robust and feathered. One ended up in a neighbor's yard--I am guessing the robins thought that one could handle life on its own since it flew across the street, or else they had given up on it.
The other one ended up caught in the bird net on my strawberry row! Oh, the guilt. Luckily I spotted it in time and was able to un-entangle it. This was traumatic, for me and the birds. You always hear to not touch baby birds, but this one must have been old enough. It made its way out of my yard into a relatively protected area. The adults are still protecting and feeding it. I made sure to toss them plenty of grubs and worms as I finished off my last raised bed.
I already knew this, but I could never raise chickens (even if Arlington eventually allows it). As a person who, upon finding a nest of voles in her compost pile, placed each one carefully at the mother's nest opening under my shed, I just can't handle "nature's way."