The first egg is in the nest

Late this afternoon (April 11, 2018), the first egg appeared

in this robin's nest, located in a satellite dish. Robins' eggs 

typically hatch in 14 days.

After near freezing temperatures in the early morning hours, the sun returned today and by afternoon the warmth of the day, reached into the mid 60s. After a frigid weekend, the temperatures had remained cold on Monday and Tuesday. Still, I checked the nest both days and found nothing. 

During the chilly morning hours today, I watched the robin parents scooting about on the ground near the nesting site but didn't see either of them going into the nest.  Throughout the day I would occasionally pick up my binnoculars (left conveniently near a window in sight of the nest) and zoom into the nest but never saw the mama sitting there.

With tomorrow's temperature expected to rise into the mid 70s, I wondered if she would then start sitting on the nest and lay the first egg. When I returned home late this afternoon, I decided to take one last look at the nest for the day. Ahhh, it was there. One beautiful blue egg was in the nest. 

From my observations of three robins' nests last year, I know that the first baby will hatch 14 days after the first egg is laid. According to literature, the babies hatch in order that the eggs are layed. With the appearance of the first egg, it's going to be an exciting four weeks watching this nest.

~~~B~~~

 

The nest is ready

As I watched this robin's nest come together, I noted the parents didn't seem to be in a great hurry to finish the nest.

Earlier in the week they began bringing nesting materials to the back enclosed part of the satellite dish and just dumped them there.

A few days later, the pile of leaves and grass were taking the form of a nest. By the weekend, the circular form had added a few inches of depth, providing sufficient space for the 3-5 eggs usually laid the by the mother robin.

Freezing temperatures returned for the weekend, and although both parents were frequently moving  about on the ground underneath the satellite dish, there was no sign of activity inside the nest.

Apparently, the mother was waiting for warmer temperatures before laying eggs.

~~~B~~~

Nesting season is here

Last week, it occurred to me that maybe we should remove a robin's nest that had been left inside our satellite dish for a year. After reading that robins rarely reused a nest, but sometimes doves did use vacated nests, I had decided to leave the nest there, hoping that a pair doves would  use it for their nestlings.

Since doves have a later nesting season than robins, I kept an eye on the doves that like to hang out on our roof and checked the nest often for eggs. Maybe the doves decided the dish would be too hot for sitting on eggs in the middle of summer, because there was no sign of nesting activity after the baby robins fledged in mid May last spring.

The dish had provided me with a perfect spot for observing the beautiful blue eggs from the time they were laid until the babies poked holes in them and hatched. It was an exciting four weeks, watching the mother sitting on the nest, the babies pecking their featherless bodies out of their shells and then the feeding frenzy as both parents brought food to the nest.

The parents became so accustomed to my face and voice that they stopped squawking when I came near the nest. The four babies also seemed to recognize my face and voice, because when each of them  fledged and were on the ground near the nest, they stopped long enough for me to take close-up pictures. It was fun and sad watching them try their wings. In a moment, their world had expanded  from a tiny nest to a wondrous expanse of land and sky. And then they were gone.

For several weeks, I've noticed that some of the robins in the yard looked to be pairing up for the upcoming nesting season. I was hoping some of them would consider the satellite dish for a nest. Thinking that those scouting for a nesting site might think the satellite dish was already taken, we removed the leftover nest.

Boom! A few days later, signs of a new nest appeared. It's taken a few days for the nest to take form, and it looks bigger than the one from last year, with a mixture of materials that include leaves and dried grass.

This dish provides a great place for a spring nest. It doesn't get that hot, and it offers protection during spring thunderstorms.

When I checked the dish this morning, all the nesting material had been plumped down and looks ready for the first egg to be laid.

~~~B~~~
04-04-2018

Riding the Rails: Lafayette to Los Angeles Part 1

Waiting for the Sunset Limited at Lafayette, La.

“I wouldn’t leave my car here for two weeks,” the young woman wearing a security guard uniform told me flatly, when I asked for directions to the free parking for Amtrak passengers and if there were restrictions on the length of time a vehicle could be left.

“There is no security here at night after 10:30,” she informed me. Following her gaze toward the entrance to the Transit Center, I saw what appeared to be a number of loiterers. I felt a little uneasy in this parking lot at 11:30 a.m.

 “These trains are late a lot, and sometimes they are up to 16 or more hours late and come in here in the middle of the night,” she continued.

“What about parking garages?” I asked. “Are there any close by?”

“They’re too far away to carry your luggage,” she answered. “And this not a safe area at night.”

“Are the taxis here at night?”

“No.” she replied. “And if you call one, they may or may not show up. So many times, bus passengers have called a taxi, thinking their ride wasn’t going to show up. Then their ride gets here before the taxi, and the taxi driver is left high and dry. And if they do come, it could be an hour after you call. You can’t depend on them at night.”

After driving more than 700 miles from our home in Tennessee, my husband, 15-year-old son and 12-year-old daughter had just arrived at the Transit Center in Lafayette, La., to board a train for our first long distance Amtak trip. This was an unstaffed station that only opened for about an hour for departures and arrivals. We had just gotten into town after spending the previous night with friends near Laurel, Miss. We still had about three hours to wait for the train.

We were expecting adventure on the trip but not before boarding the train.

Riding the Rails: Lafayette to Los Angeles Part 2

View of the Pecos River in West Texas from a dirty train window.

Awakening, I realized the train had stopped. From my window, I could see bright lights and a flurry of activity on the platform below. It was 5:30 a.m, and we had arrived in San Antonio, the time we were supposed to be leaving.

In San Antonio, a coach and a sleeper car from the Texas Eagle, which had arrived earlier from Chicago, were attached to the end of our car. This was going to take some time, so I got up and went out on the platform where a few passengers had gathered, mainly smokers.

Around 8:30 a.m., we left San Antonio, passing by the Alamo. In the distance we could see the hill country. The train turned south, and we were heading into the prairie.

After leaving the prairie, we stopped at Del Rio, which had a pretty pink stucco station and looked new. From there, we caught our first glimpse of Mexico, just beyond the Amistad National Recreation Area. A park ranger boarded the train and talked about the history of the area and the terrain and pointed out landmarks, such as the Pecos River Bridge, once one of the tallest bridges in the country. He told us to keep an eye out for the miniature deer that roamed the area.

Riding the Rails: Lafayette to Los Angeles Part 3

Windmill farm in Palm Springs, Calif.

When I woke up, the train was still and quiet. My watch said 5:30. But I didn’t know what time zone we were in and couldn’t remember if I had reset my watch. Looking out the window, I could see the sun coming up in the desert. In the distance was a highway. It looked like an interstate. 

As quietly as I could, I took a change of clothes from my luggage and headed to the dressing room. As I walked through through the coach car, I didn’t see anyone awake. When I got to the dressing room, one of the women in the wedding party on board, was finishing her make up.  She had a huge make up case. Before leaving, she took paper towels and washed down the counter and sink and then wiped them dry. I was so inspired by this that I did the same when I left.

As I left the dressing room, I saw the elderly gentleman from Oceanside, Calif., standing in the hall looking out the window of the door. I asked him if he knew where we were.

“We are about 50 miles east of Yuma, Arizona, and running about five hours late,” he answered, adding, “I won’t get home until about 5 this afternoon.”

On my way to the snack bar to get coffee, I met the conductor and asked him why we were five hours late. He said that during the night there had been a mechanical problem, and they had to wait for a freight to bring a part to fix it. 

In a few minutes, the train started moving...slowly. We passed through red rock formations, and the scenery just became picture postcard gorgeous. As we continued on toYuma, the landscape unfolded into one breathtaking scene after another. I woke my husband up, so he wouldn’t miss any of it. On time, the train would have rolled through all this beauty in the dark.

Riding the Rails: Los Angeles to Lafayette Part 1

Waiting room at LAX Union Station.

It’s was nearly 11 a.m. as we arrived at the Amtrak Station in Anaheim, Calif., located behind the Los Angeles Angels’ Stadium. The temperature felt like it had already reached 90, just like it had for the last seven days of our stay. During our visit the year, also in July, the temperatures had stayed in the 70s range.

The air conditioning in the ticket office was welcoming, but the agent directed us to some steps outside that would take us up to the platform, where we would wait for the Pacific Surfliner that would take us back to Los Angeles Union Station. There, we would board the Sunset Limited 2 for our return trip to Lafayette, La.

Benches lined a walkway next to the station’s platform. While my husband, son and daughter walked along the platform, I sat down next to an older black woman, who was fanning herself with a wide brim brown hat that matched the lightweight floral dress that reached to her ankles. She was a thin woman, and her carefully styled hair fell just above her shoulders. She had an air of grace about her that extended to the slight movements of her hat.

Without turning toward me or smiling, she said, “I will be so glad to get home and away from this heat.”

“Where do you live?” I asked, thinking maybe she was from the Northwest.

“I live in Oxnard,” she replied. “We are about an hour north of LA, and the weather is always wonderful. The temperature is rarely above the 70s.”

In spite of her apparent refinement, she seemed friendly. “Have you always lived in California?” I asked.

“All but the 10 years I lived in China,” she answered. “I went to China to teach English. I didn’t know a soul there, nor could I speak a word of the language of the people I was going to teach. I was supposed to teach for a year and ended up staying there for 10 years.”

We chatted about her work in China until we heard the train whistle.