A Snake in the Rose Trellis

Summer creatures, great and small.

My father texted me the other morning to tell me about a nest of baby robins on top of his rose trellis. The trellis abuts his deck, so he’d been keeping an eye on the chicks, albeit from a safe distance. He didn’t want to irritate Mama robin, who’d gotten in the habit of swooping close to Dad’s head if he was out on the deck.

Dad lamented that one of the chicks, who he’d nicknamed Godzilla, was a worm hog. Godzilla had a habit of stepping all over his siblings, aiming to get to Mama first. As a result, he was growing bigger faster, leaving his two smaller siblings with their mouths constantly agape.

I asked Dad to take a picture if he could, but he said he needed a selfie stick – didn’t want to get too close for Mama’s comfort.

Not an hour later, he texted again:

“Too late. Four-foot long snake just got in the nest…killed one chick before I could get it off…two others tumbled out of the nest…put one back…tumbled back out…the third, unhurt, scampered under the deck to certain death…the snake got there first, even though wounded. End of story. So much for bird watching.”