Note to Self: Bird Nesting

Three eggs this time. And this time, Mama is staying on the nest.

She has gotten used to us after all these years. A few years ago, she flapped and squawked and carried on, especially if Tom cut under the tree on his way to turn on the spigot. This year, she doesn't mind at all if we weed under her tree and she hasn't scolded the dogs once. Yesterday, I flung the window open wide and she just looked at me, totally unperturbed. (flinged? flang? flung?--that doesn't sound right. . .oh, well, you know what I mean. . .)

Can't wait until the eggs hatch so I can show the baby birdies to Elliott.