Bye-bye, Birdie.

Spoke too soon.  Saw the bird, but then yesterday saw the nest had fallen -- too much wind?  An attack from the magpies... abandoned because of too much (of our) attention?

I picked up the nest and put it back.  No eggs inside or around on the ground.  I tell James the bird might come back if we leave it alone. 

Back in my head I flash back to that day I managed to catch a baby-ish robin.  I was maybe seven?  It's leg had been tangled in some monkshood flower stalks and it didn't seem able to fly.  I was so excited I brought it inside the house.  Mom and Dad were not happy about it, but gave me a shoe box to put it in. 

At some point later in the day they convinced me it needed its parents and that we should set it free.  My dad gently tossed the bird into the crook of a tree branch before I headed off to school.  When I got home I didn't see the bird there and asked about it.  Was I crying?  Dad said he saw a mommy and daddy bird come pick it up and wing-in-wing they flew away.  I think it comforted me.  Though  I realise now of course how crazy a sight that would be.  The bird likely didn't make it. 

James calls every robin his pet "Cushion" -- and strangely refers to their colouring as "yellow".  This makes me think about Chinese royal robes: yellows and oranges were considered part of the "brown" family of colours.  Maybe not so strange after all.  I wonder if other cultures combine those together too...