Robin’s Nest: Tales from the Feathered World

March

The First Hint of Spring… 🌱

The earth is waking up today, just barely. The ground, still a little frosty, is beginning to soften, like the last whispers of winter trying to hold on. But change is in the air—just ask the robin. A red-feathered fellow has arrived at the edge of the garden, looking quite dignified as he surveys the landscape. His beady eyes seem to be assessing the possibilities. There’s a subtle stir in the bushes; he’s already eyeing the best spots for what I can only assume will be the comfiest nest in all of the neighbourhood.

I can almost hear him thinking, “If I’m going to build a home, it might as well be comfy for my babies.”

Robins nest page from a nature journal birdwatching journal with handwritten notes and sketches

The Search for Perfect Twigs… 🪵

The robin is nothing if not particular. Today, he flits from tree to tree, his beak expertly picking out the best bits of twig and moss for his new abode. There’s an elegance to his movements—each step measured, each twig carefully chosen. I can’t help but admire his attention to detail.

From my window, I watch him gather materials, and I find myself wondering: Is there a robin equivalent of a Pinterest board? If there is, this robin has it filled with perfectly arranged branches, some wildflower stems, and perhaps a hint of soft grass for that cozy, inviting feel.

I see him land with a particularly large twig, his wings flapping with a kind of joyful determination. “Yes, this one will do,” he seems to think, as he adds it to the growing nest. I can only imagine the little stories he tells himself while building, as if each twig is part of a grand tale—a tale of warmth, safety, and the promise of something beautiful to come.

The Nest Takes Shape… 🪹

The nest is now taking shape, a lovely little structure nestled in the branches of the elder tree. It’s a sight to behold—perfectly crafted, with just the right amount of moss lining the interior. I imagine it must be so soft inside, the kind of cozy space where dreams of spring are born. The robin hops in and out, checking his progress with great pride, as though his little home were a masterpiece of design, and rightly so, it is.

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I can almost hear the chatter of robins passing by, giving approving nods and chirps of approval: “That’s a good nest. Solid craftsmanship!”

I find myself feeling a bit envious of how effortless he makes it all seem—how in tune with the world he is. The robin knows exactly what he’s doing, each twig a stroke of nature’s brush, every mossy layer a soft whisper of the earth’s embrace.

April

A Robin Family Grows…

A few days ago, the robin’s partner arrived. There’s now a second figure, a female robin, with feathers that seem to shimmer a bit more in the sunlight. She’s a quiet observer, standing just slightly apart, taking in the nest that has become a work of art. And then, without a word, she hops into the cozy little space, fluffing the moss and adjusting the twigs to her liking.

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Together, they form a perfect team—he brings in the materials, she arranges them just so. The nest feels alive now, as if it has its own energy, its own personality. It’s no longer just a collection of sticks; it’s a home. A home where a family will soon begin.

I can’t help but imagine the little voices that will fill this space in just a few weeks—tiny chirps of hunger, the soft rustling of feathers as the babies stretch and wiggle in the warmth of their new home.

The First Egg… 🥚

This morning, as the sun filtered through the leaves, I saw it. A small, speckled egg nestled safely in the centre of the nest, cradled by the soft moss. It’s so delicate, so fragile, and yet, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of wonder. This tiny, speckled orb holds the promise of new life.

The robin stands guard nearby, watching over the nest with an air of quiet pride. He’s no longer just the builder, the provider—he’s the protector now. There’s something magical about this moment, the stillness of it, the way everything feels poised on the edge of something wonderful.

I feel as if I’m witnessing something ancient, something timeless—how a robin’s nest, like all nests, is a symbol of beginning. A place where dreams, however small, are nurtured.

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The Hatchlings Arrive… 🐣

And then, just like that—chirps. Tiny, frantic chirps. The eggs have hatched, and suddenly, the nest is filled with tiny beaks and soft, wobbly bodies. The robin’s world has changed again, this time in a flurry of feathers and beaks, a chorus of demand and need. The parents move in a flurry, feeding the chicks and keeping watch.

It’s an incredible thing to witness—how the world shifts in the smallest of ways. The nest, once so neat and tidy, is now a little chaotic. There’s a constant flurry of movement, tiny wings fluttering, mouths open wide. It’s the kind of beautiful chaos that only the dawn of new life can bring.

I wonder, as I watch from my window, if the robins ever get overwhelmed by the constant need to feed and protect. But if they do, it doesn’t show. They are as graceful as ever, hopping about with purpose, carrying leaves and bits of food to their growing family.

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June

The First Flight… ✈️

The day has arrived. One of the chicks—small but brave—flutters its wings and, with a hesitant leap, takes off from the nest. The parents watch from a nearby branch, their gaze filled with pride and something else I can’t quite put into words.

I see the robin puff out his chest, a tiny puff of pride. I taught them well, he must be thinking.

The garden seems a little quieter now, a little emptier. But that’s the way of things. The little birds grow, and they leave the nest.

And though I’ll miss hearing the soft chirps from the branches, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace. The robin has completed his circle—his nest, a symbol of beginnings and endings, of stories written in the sky and sung in the leaves.

A Winter’s Tale… ❄️

The nest is quiet now, the branches bare. The robins have gone south, as they do when the cold arrives. But the memory of their nest lingers, as all good stories do.

The snow falls gently, covering the world in a blanket of silence. But somewhere, in the heart of this stillness, I can almost hear the soft rustle of wings, the distant chirp of a robin, and the gentle, enduring rhythm of life that continues—quietly, beautifully—whether we’re watching or not.

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And so, the tale of the robin’s nest continues, written in feathers and twigs, in songs and silent moments, and in the heartbeats of a world that never stops turning.

Sadie @ InsideMyNest

Hi 👋, I’m Sadie—wife to a super supportive husband (also my business partner) and busy mum of two young children (the biggest miracles of my life). Every illustration you see here has been hand-illustrated by me (with several hours spent on some of them… yes, think I’m still a bit old-school), and all images are original photos that I have taken myself or of my own handmade creations. But I’m no expert, or have had any specialised training—just someone who is learning and would like to share that learning journey with like-minded individuals who are on the same boat as me :)

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