May 30, 2002 - 10:00 a.m.
Yesterday Zachary learned about baby birds.
I suppose the robin that landed on our deck wasn't really a baby. His feathers were mostly in, though he had a few tufts of fuzz around his head reminiscent of Big Bird from Sesame Street. He could fly a little bit - mostly into the window. I assume the other birds hadn't yet explained to him about windows. He would get his claws all caught up in the screen, wings flapping wildly, until he finally broke loose and fell again and again and again.
He gave up after half a dozen tries to get at that other baby bird (experience teaches) and settled in to sitting on the deck rail and calling for Momma.
I felt rather bad for him, all alone, out of the nest with no way home short of a Snort (Zachary and I have been reading Are you my Mother this week). And Snorts don't frequent my backyard. I was just beginning to wonder if I ought to put our some water and birdseed when the fledgling's mother dropped by with a couple of earthworms for him. Zachary and I got a very good view from the living room window of Momma Bird feeding her baby.
He didn't make life easy for her, though, as children will do. Everytime she left to fetch him another worm, he moved to another part of the deck: behind the chair; under the bench; between the steps. Momma Bird had to hunt for him every single time while he chirped and chirped for her to find him.
"Hide seek baby bird!" Zachary giggled. He knew what the little robin was up to.
