As Ray and I sat on the patio enjoying the last dregs of sunshine spill across the sky, I heard a rustling in the cherry-type tree behind me. It was a quiet rustling, not something that could be mistaken for a breeze ruffling the leaves but also not anything larger like a cat. Since Boo Kitty is the only climbing cat we have and she would rather eat sand than be in the vicinity of Ray, I knew it was not her.
In the encroaching twilight, I let my imagination wander to what the sound could be. I thought about friends in Florida who talked about rats climbing in their grapefruit trees in order to steal fruit and the skin at the back of my neck began to crawl. Never mind that I don’t live in Florida, and the cherry-like fruit has not yet burst from the delicate pink blossoms adorning the weeping branches. "There are probably huge rats lurking in the tree behind me waiting to eat my eyeballs," I thought to myself. I let my thoughts wander for a few more minutes while I resolutely did not turn to explore the cause of the noise.
Finally, it was near time to go inside and I gathered my courage as I rounded up Ray and steeled myself to look under the canopy of leaves and blossoms to confront whatever monstrous creature awaited me.
Rather than a monster, I was delighted to find that Robin had made her home right outside my kitchen window and was patiently awaiting the arrival of her own little fledglings.
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