Robins on my lawn

I saw my young Robins today, the ones who fledged last week. They spent the week deep in the bushes about my lawn, in the thick branches of the lilac probably behind some floribunda thorns.
Today they made their first foray out onto the lawn. Still well close to the edge of my property where the safety of a low branch offers some sanctuary. When the birds fledged, there was clearly one bird who was ready before the rest, and one that was decidedly behind who only raised a beak to be fed but otherwise rested. The more mature bird was half-hanging out of the nest and these Robins had built on a ledge in a place that kept the birds rather close to the ground but bone-dry in the worst of weather. The choice must have favored them because they all fledged, the weakest staying an extra day or more. Today I looked out onto the lawn and all four were there, as mom and dad tut-tutted them and tried to call them in closer to the wooded edge. The largest baby was near the smallest and was already feeding itself on some lawn slugs. The youngest looked smaller with a stubby tail and many spots on the breast. The strongest was calling to the weakest imploring it to get out of the middle of the lawn and into safer territory. Finally the little bird, cheeping madly,
making every mistake a young bird makes, finally hopped a few steps in the right direction.
Then stopping to rest, the older but still just-fledged Robin began it's insistent lecture again, and again the youngest bird took a few more hops into safer territory. This went on for awhile until the baby was safe at the edge of the woods with the parent bird just arrived nearby, tut-tutting from time to time. I noticed the dapper visage and vigor of the strongest baby bird, already feeding itself and looking out for its youngest sibling in a very parental way. The family group is already moving along, the young learning to find their own food... and the youngest found itself on the lawn with the others, but really needing another day to flutter in the bushes and gain some strength. Mom and Dad are ever solicitous of their young charges, carefully guiding them through their short formative period and onward to adulthood. Their handsome spotted breasts serve them well now, in the patchy sunlight of my yard, their pale backs and camouflage chests making them very hard to spot indeed. The Robins, but also other thrushes, including the Bluebird, are known for their strong parental instincts and careful sheparding of their young.
A Bluebird offspring from early in the year will even help feed the young of a later brood.
In this way, a bird so troubled by competition for nest sites continues nesting into August when the wren and house sparrow have finally closed up their nurseries. In the great pantheon of bird families, the thrushes occupy a unique niche. Their melodic evening songs, low-to-the-ground lifestyle and usually brown plumage make them the cheerful everyman of the bird world, shy and quiet in the heat of day, jovial and carefree as the sun makes its descent. When I see a Robin, if I think about it a bit, it's a really extraordinary thing.... this mini-dinosaur ripping worms from the lawn and carefully, concernedly raising and feeding it's young. Or maybe it's the big moist eyes and industrious manner that make me take a second look. Common, yes, but still capable of arousing wonder. Perhaps in old age I'll fall in love with the sparrow. That may take a bit longer though.