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With a whir of wings, my boring day becomes amazing. As I’m looking out my window, a bird flies right in front of me. It has something in its beak. I see it land on the wreath by our front door.
“Funny bird,” I say. “Don’t you know those berries on the wreath are plastic?” The bird flies away. But soon she’s back with more stuff in her beak. I can hardly believe it! The bird is building a nest in the wreath! 
I get some string and pieces of facial tissue. I scatter it on the lawn. Mama Robin picks some of it up and weaves it into her nest.
Thwack! I hear the morning paper hit the porch. I jump out of bed and run to the window. Mama Robin has flown away. Has she made a mistake by building her nest so close to humans? Will she come back? Mama does come back. She starts shaping the nest, turning around and around. Another bird flies in. He sits on the porch railing watching. He’s bigger and darker than Mama. He must be Papa Robin. |
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I wait until they fly off for a few minutes.
I check out their work.
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Mama Robin begins sitting on the nest. I see Papa Robin sitting there once in a while too. For just a minute, I see Mama and Papa sitting in the nest together.
Neither parent is in the nest, so I hurry and get the stepladder. I take a peek. There are four blue eggs! “Robin’s egg blue” is what Mom calls them. I think it’s the most beautiful blue in the whole wide world. I quickly go away before the parents come back.
I get another idea. I make a sign and tape it to the porch railing. It reads, “Shh. Baby birds about to hatch.”
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It’s been almost two weeks since Mama Robin laid the eggs. There’s a small hole in one of them! By the next day, three of the chicks have hatched. Their skin is pink and wrinkly. Their eyes are shut. They nestle up to the last egg.
I show my mom. She says that maybe the baby died because something wasn’t right with it. I feel awful. I wish I could have saved it. But Mom says that this is the way of nature. I bury him.
The last egg hatches and there are three pink chicks again. Continued on next page |
The day after that, I peek again. One, two chicks, and one egg. Where’s the third chick? I look around and find it on the wicker coach beneath the wreath. It’s not breathing.
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