Spring is trying to come. My lilacs are trying to open in spite of the cold rain. And the baby robins are surviving in spite of a horrendous downpour of rain about a week ago, and the constant patrolling of black scavengers.
Every few days I’ve been taking pictures of the baby robins to see if they’re still with us. I’ve chased away many a crow that is wanting a quick breakfast of robin-kebabs. I even threw the empty kitchen garbage bin at one black murderer who was sitting on the corner of the roof watching to see where the robins’ nest was. (I happened to have the bin in my hand after washing it out.)
Before the robins become crow snack one of these days, I wanted to share their progress with you.
I know I must sound negative about the fate of these babies, but every year I hope that some will make it and every year the crows kill them. I’m bracing myself for the worst, and faintly, faintly, faintly, hoping for the best.