That's what I heard, yelled from the front porch. And because I'm a good mom, I yelled back, "don't touch it!"
What is it? ... Is it hurt? ... Don't squash it! ... Those other birds were attacking it! ... Can we keep it?
While I removed the little guy from the deathgrip of one kid who then ran into the house to get a handful of organic, raw sunflower seeds and the big bird handbook, I got the lowdown from the other kid and his friend. This little guy was sitting on the shelf on the porch, and it looked like a pair of robins were trying to attack it.
|Tiny little Rudie, with the great big attitude.|
He happily perched on my finger and I tried to inspect for damage. Clearly a baby robin, clearly too young to fly. I gently spread out first one wing and then the next—intact. I slowly bounced my hand up and down—he would spread his wings out to catch the little breeze that created. He seemed to like it.
When the other robins chirped and squawked, Rudie* tilted his head up and opened his mouth. Clearly he was not ready for the sunflower seeds we offered him, though my daughter did graciously offer to premasticate them.
(Yes, I named him Rudy—as in Rudie can't fail. See video below.)
The other robins were chirping like crazy; I decided to place him on a tree branch in the tree furthest from the front door and see what transpired.
|Rudie remains unruffled by the exciting events.|
The other robins continued their frenzy. I stayed close to watch, snapping a few shots as they hopped around the tree, trying to get close to Rudie. What would become of him?
|Mom and Dad (I think) watch and squawk from the fence nearby.|
I checked on Rudie a few more times that afternoon, and by dinner, he was gone. I'm not sure if he regained his courage and flew back to the nest or if he's climbed deeper into the thick, leafy branches of the tree. I do know that as I sit on the patio with my coffee and write this, the robins are chirping and squawking anew.