For a few weeks now, a beautiful robin who set up camp in a thankfully not-too-seasonal wreath hanging on my porch has been giving me the stink eye as I go in and out the door.
I’m typically respectful. I try not to pay too much attention to the wildlife that seems bent on colonizing my garden and things adjacent.
But that robin has been asking for it. No matter when I look out the screen door, there is the accusing black eye. Staring. As if to suggest that it is I and the dogs who have interloped.
Typically, she sits tight. Looking severe. But every now and then, she flops out of the nest, distracting me with an injured bird routine on the driveway.
On Monday, she flopped away and it was just too much for me to bear. The nest, so perfectly finished with an edge of scored mud, demanded a peek.
I stepped up on a stool and peered in at two brilliant blue eggs. And then I spent the rest of the day worrying that my rudeness had run her off.
She was still gone when I came home from work. But then, as dusk fell, I looked out the door again, and she was back capping the nest. Stern. But safe at home again.
Dana Coffield, The Denver Post
