A tragedy has occurred here. Hildy's eggs are gone. There were four happy little eggs there on Wednesday as I worked in the garden. Hildy fussed at me from time to time when she thought me to be too close, but didn't leave her nest to try to lure me away with her act of injuries.
Yesterday morning after I harvested strawberries and asparagus and checked on all my little seedlings popping up out of the ground, I meandered over to check on Hildy and Henry. Only two eggs were there and Hildy was in quite a state of distress. Henry was flying circles overhead and calling to her with his high pitched warning. "Dweep, dweep, dweep." he called over and over and she answered with her own call. I had heard them when I awoke, but didn't think much about it. I am used to hearing them.
Today is a very sad day. No eggs. No warning calls or contented chatter. Hildy is wandering forlornly in the garden. I am so sad for her. I was looking forward to watching the little family emerge from the eggs and run into the grass to eat bugs.
I would have thought the eggs to be safer than they were last year, in the gravel drive. I wonder what predator got them. No tell-tell evidence of cracked shells remain. I am thinking it was Petey, the old hump backed possum that lives among the various tools in the barn.
I hope it was not Mr. Martha, the boy cat I raised from a bottle. I really hope I did not raise a murderer! I would feel so guilty ........