This morning I came downstairs and saw through the window that the robin nest on its side. I thought it was because of the strong wind last night. So, I went out to help and thinking about looking for the babies and put them back. I really thought they must be on my porch floor around the nest. What I saw was like a CSI scene. There were blood stains all around, and two tiny feet sadly lying there, maybe some other tiny pieces of my robin babies! I was totally not prepared for that, so I jumped backward and screamed. A cat or other animal must found the babies and ate them all during the night. I didn't even hear anything, otherwise, I would have came out and help the babies. Their mother trust me so much to build their nest on my porch, I feel like I let them down. I should have put the nest in a hanging basket and kept it off the floor. I feel somewhat responsible for their death. I know this is the reality, that I should let the nature take its own course. But I have been watching them from day 1, and they are my babies! I feel so sad, and so sorry for the mama#2. She must be so scared and angry and heartbroken. I cannot get that bloody scene out of my mind, every time I close my eyes, even just blinking, I can still see those tiny feet lying there, hopelessly in the dried blood pool. I did take some crime scene pictures, but they are just too brutal to show online, I am affraid they will give other bird lovers nightmares as well. Let's just remember them as they were in the pictures from yesterday's post. I couldn't believe that was their last day. Not only I cannot stop thinking about that scene, I have to go home to that, and I have to bury the tiny feet and wash off the blood stain. What am I supposed to do with my English Ivy? It still looks alive underneath the nest, I could carefully remove the nest and rescue the ivy, but it will be a very painful reminder to me. I guess I just have to throw the whole thing away, so I can at least try to forget it and move on. I need to mentally block the bad memories and cherish the good and happy ones, the ones when the babies were still alive and healthy, and they would lift their heads and open their mouths to beg for food everytime I whistle. At least their eyes were still closed, so they didn't see their predator, and hope they didn't suffer much either. Goodbye, my babies! I will stop eatting chicken for at least a week to honor your death. That's the least I can do.
I will put a couple hanging baskets up for the mama#2 to build her second nest, and have more babies. Hope she is not injuried, and not too scared to come back to my yard. I am so sorry for you, mama#2!