Passerby,
This morning, while only a little grey in the East, I stood on the cabin porch in a light drizzle and enjoyed the morning song. The Robins always begin the morning worship, followed by the finches, yellow and red, the mourning doves, then the sparrow and the Cedar Waxwing high in the tree tops, until the whole of creation is sufficiently awake to the hope, the promise, and the possibilities of Her new creation this day. One Robin, in particular, stood tall, posture perfect in front of me as she proclaimed this new resurrection. Facing first East toward the hope for blessing not yet received in the rising sun, then West as though proclaiming that all is Hers from beginning to end, and thanking Her in advance for Her promise fulfilled.
Over the years, Claire and my relationship with many other kinds with whom we share in the Spirit’s diversity delighted us, from squirrels, bears, deer, and birds of many kinds.
In my experience, Robins are very gregarious and exceptionally tuned to the Spirit’s will concerning the relationship that She intended us all to enjoy as fellow residents of this good earth. Each Spring, the nesting season, there are always new delightful stories about this progressive, often excitable, and sometimes in-your-face brothers and sisters.
This Spring, on ‘the farm,’ I needed to replace my home’s screen door for the rear, lower-level door. There was a small, gabled roof over that door, which was unfinished underneath. It was in that exposed structure that She had built her nest. As I recall, I had questioned her choice from the beginning, but there was little reasoning with her once she had decided.
So, for the early Spring, each time I forgot her preferences, meaning I disturbed her routine as little as possible and used my back door, She subjected me to her displeasure. Alarmingly, in her most urgent scolding voice, she would fly down, wings flapping in my face and out into the yard, giving me a startle and prompting my irritated response.
This was my life until the babies had fledged, and this, I reasoned, was my opportunity. She being otherwise occupied, I would replace the screen door. I would put a ceiling under that old porch to avoid future conflict with her. Decent plan. However, she had not gone far.
I replaced the screen door with no problem and without incident, but then it came time for the new ceiling. My first need was to remove the junk that someone had stored above the rafters and, with it, to remove the ‘abandoned’ nest that she had so carefully constructed and had put to good use.
So began the problem. Did you know Robins may nest two or three times during the Spring? I didn’t.
Placing the nest intact on the grass beside me as I knelt there, I prepared the materials for installing the ceiling. And at my elbow, there she was, standing on tiptoes beside her nest and pointing out to me in no uncertain terms, the error of my ways, the waywardness of my thinking, of my poor portrayal of human-kind the Spirit had created me to be, in the most clearly derogatory and inflammatory language she could think of.
My bad.
Repenting for deciding for her and not with her, I didn’t consider her considerable labor and had not put her needs above my own for a moment; I put her nest back just as it had been, which meant putting some of the junk back first, just as it had been. I cleaned my mess and left her alone. Within two days, we had eggs in the nest once more. Not only did she intend to use it again, but she also needed it right then.
I completed my project that Summer when the nesting season was over. Robins do not reuse a nest in the next year.