Discovered nestled into a convenient corner of our tractor rake. Mama Robin watched from a nearby tree and made sure I knew that she didn’t want me to hurt her unhatched babies. I spoke soothingly back to her, letting her know I only wanted to marvel at her good work. Even birds know the value of unborn life.
Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn, His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn, A little bird took from that crown one thorn. To soothe the dear Redeemer’s throbbing head, That bird did what she could; His blood, ’tis said, Down dropping, dyed her tender bosom red. Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest; Weasel nor wild cat will her young molest; All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast. – “The Redbreast”