Good job, God. Way to go, with the robins.

I'm a little ashamed to say that, even though I've spent much of my life in bucolic surroundings, this morning was the first time I'd ever really noticed a robin gathering up grass and straw and whatnot for its nest.

Part of the problem, I think, is that when I see a bird pecking around on the ground, I expect to see it pull up a worm, which is something I totally don't need to see. But this morning, waiting on my replacement to show up, gazing gazily out the window, I noticed a robin plucking up little pieces for its nest. The most entertaining part was how, every so often, it would stare up at me, as is to say "What? You want trouble?"

And I don't. I don't want trouble, robin. I've seen that Hitchcock movie. And the re-make of that Hitchcock movie. And I read that bird attacks, worldwide, against people, are increasing at an alarming rate. So please understand, robin, that I was staring, like, appreciatively, thinking what a good job it was doing with its nest stuff gathering.