The last of the hatchlings is dead in its nest. One disappeared yesterday—I looked under the Russian Olive to see if it had fallen, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I assume it fell out of the nest and succumbed to a predator, or one of the neighborhood hawks or owls plucked it right from the nest.

This morning, the last remaining hatchling is still in its nest, but it hasn’t moved. The mother fluttered in and out of the nest, sometimes sitting on the hatchling to keep it warm , sometimes just sitting on the edge of the nest, looking in. The father came by with some food, but the baby never lifted its head. At one point, the mother sat on the nest and sang her heart out.

The parents seem to have given up hope now. They’re not coming back to the Russian Olive, but I see them in the surrounding trees, and as I work, I can here them chattering back and forth. When they’re silent, I find myself going to the window to see if they’ve flown away, but they are still keeping vigil nearby.

Damn.

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