And yet, she persisted

THIS COLUMN WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN WRITER’S BLOCK IN THE MAY 22, 2019 EDITION OF THE CHRONOTYPE, RICE LAKE, WISCONSIN.

The nest is gone. It never was, really a nest. The nook or cranny, if you will, that mama robin chose was less than ideal. The slant of the roof was just a little too steep, the porch door just a little too close for both mama robin’s liking and ours.

But that little bird persisted. Day after day new pieces of plastic and landscaping material congregated on the little eave. Daily she made great progress, and daily her day’s work was tossed down onto our deck by the wind, occasionally by hand, mostly by gravity. Bits of paper and grass and other natural and unnatural bits floated into the deck corners, very accessible for the next day’s redo. But mama robin always brought new material, similar to be sure, but not yesterday’s discard. 

My husband and I were impressed by this persistence and work ethic and mistakenly attributed it to a male bird. I had no idea that female robins build their own nests. I assumed the male robin was either on assignment from his impregnated partner, or he was trying to attract a partner to impregnate. The more this bird “persisted,” the more foolish it became to us. We started talking to him, calling him bro. Bro, you gotta move on, man. Bro, you are trying to defy physics with your location choice. Turns out he wasn’t a bro at all. 

The female robin chooses the nest site. She also builds the nest from the inside out, pressing dead grass and twigs into a cup shape using the wrist of one wing. Other materials include paper, feathers, rootlets, or moss in addition to grass and twigs. Once the cup is formed, she reinforces the nest using soft mud gathered from worm castings to make a heavy, sturdy nest. She then lines the nest with fine dry grass. The finished nest is 6-8 inches across and 3-6 inches high.

This nest never got that far, at least not where it was originally intended anyway. 

This was the first time I’d seen a nest attempt in that spot in the 2 years I’ve lived here. I wondered why this spot now; it must be a new robin moving into the neighborhood. But I found out, it could be a veteran just looking for a new spot. Robins go through the nest-building process each time they produce a new brood, so about two or three times a season. While robins might repair or build on top of a previous nest, most of them build a new nest for each “family” they raise. This is best for many reasons. A used nest is a mess, stretched out, and often home to mites, lice, flies and possibly poop.

Each brood may consist of three to five eggs, sky-blue or green blue in color and unmarked—distinct enough that most children of young ages can distinguish a robin’s egg from any other. The eggs are incubated for 12-14 days and fledglings are born helpless and naked (as we all are at birth) with just a spare whitish down. 

I’m a little sad I didn’t get the front row view to this rite of spring. But I expect there may be another attempt some day. After all, this is only the first brood this season. 

When the chicks hatch, both the parents get busy feeding them. When the chicks fledge (leave the nest), both parents continue to follow them and feed them for a few days. But then the female gets busy building a new nest and laying new eggs. While she incubates the new brood, the male continues taking care of the older babies. He leads them to a stand of trees in the evening where they will roost with other robins. By the time the new eggs hatch, the older babies are ready to be on their own, and the male is able to help feed the new babies. Bro, you’re totally doing it right.

I still hear the male robins singing early in the dawn hours. I like to think it’s the robin couple nearby safely waiting for their brood to hatch in a very stable nest.