Ah, I didn’t pay attention to the bird chirping differently when I tossed the ladder under the staircase.
Then a series of smaller cries erupted right in the ladder / decrepit fence material area. Shit, I thought. Shit shit, I thought again again.
The Robin on the pine branch kept at it. I tiptoed closer to the pile, lifting junk with my pinkies raised, and saw a moving chicken part with some yellow fuzz on it. Then more: a disoriented baby flapping its new parts and hobbling.
I looked up at the discreet nest in our 2nd story staircase to confirm: bobbing fur in the nest, baby bird down. Baby was nestled in between the steps of the shorter ladder that I didn’t use. Nice. Too many siblings flipping the bird out of the nest and onto a metal ladder, only to get nearly pummeled by another ladder.
I got some stale bread and balled it up into bits before tossing it to the mother. Who didn’t take the bait. She just stared me down. I went back inside to consult with an expert.