White Dog has, since the momma bird began making the nest, been fascinated by and protective of the egg laying process and consequent baby birdie birthings. Often over the past few weeks I have noticed her sitting under the tree just observing. She has diligently patrolled the yard to keep the neighborhood cats away. If you recall, White Dog even did her own experimenting with building a nest.
Today she went out to the yard and a short time later I heard her howling...not barking...howling! I was barely out of the back door when White Dog rushed up to me with one of the fledglings, dead, in her mouth. She dropped it at my feet and looked up agitated with a plea of "fix it!" in her eyes. It was obvious that the baby must have fallen from the nest and a cat had gotten it (for it was horribly mangled and half digested). From her actions, I knew White Dog had not eaten the poor thing. She nosed it toward me and again asked for me to make it sing. I sat down on the step with her and petted her as we paid respects to the life lost. She watched as Gregg (who had just stopped by) and I pushed it into a bag and disposed of the remains. Later, I looked out and White Dog was just sitting next to the garbage container looking sad.