And Then There Were None

As I was putting breakfast together one morning, I noticed a bird flying back and forth to the little patio table outside my window. The tabletop is packed with plants, and she (a female Dark-eyed Junco) was darting among the pots—carrying bits of grass or leaves.

Peering through the window, I spotted the nest she was constructing. Her male partner was observing from atop the nearby fence.

I backed away, wondering if they'd see me and be spooked.

After she laid her first egg, I had my answer.

I was thrilled to have a front-row seat, and also worried about the neighborhood cats.

The next day a second egg appeared, and one more the day after. I was impressed with the size of the eggs, relative to the size of the bird.

When I returned home later that day, the nest (visibly lined with strands of my hair!) was empty.

I found one of the eggshells under a bush; ants were finishing off whatever the hungry thief had left behind.

Was the culprit a crow? A scrub jay? The nest remained empty, the sad mystery unsolved.