For a few weeks now, every time we opened the door a little bird would fly out from, I supposed, the eaves over the front porch. It wasn't until this weekend that Mikey pointed out that the nest was, in fact, in the wreath that is hung on the front door, a wreath of dried twigs and hydrangeas and those spumey purple flowers. And right there at about ten o'clock, there is a little nest. I lifted my camera up above my head and shot away.
Lo and behold there were five eggs nestled snuggly in the bower of dried grass and weeds. The nieces were beside themselves with the cuteness of it. Mikey said, "just ignore them." Every time one of us went out the door, mama bird would fly away, leaving the eggs to their fate. The girls tried to leave the door open so mama bird wouldn't be disturbed but that lasted about 5 minutes.
At the end of the weekend, after everyone had left, I figured the eggs and their mom would be able to relax. It was just me going in and out and not all that often. I would come home and as I approached the door I could see mom doing her duty, sitting on those eggs and keeping them warm. She still flew off when I grabbed the door handle even though I was trying hard to be gentle, but she wouldn't go far and would return as soon as I was in the house and didn't present a threat any longer.
This morning as I left for work I noticed that the nest was pulled away from the wreath a little bit and tipped down toward the ground. There was only one egg left in there. It was whole and looked undisturbed. I looked around on the ground and didn't see any evidence of the egg shells from the other four eggs. If they'd hatched wouldn't the shells be left in the nest? Does a mom bird move eggs she feels are in danger like a mama cat does? I didn't think so. How would she do that? Could those big fat racoons that roam the hood at night have gotten hold of them. It was up pretty high. I couldn't see the eggs even on tippytoes. I had had to hold the camera way up to take that one dark shot.
I'm hoping against hope that those babies are out there spreading their wings, learning how to soar. I hope they are looking down at the front door from the crabapple tree and telling all the other birds, "that's where we used to live. The neighbors were a little noisy but it was a nice place nonetheless."