Sadly, this nest will never yield any hatchlings - it was abandoned last year. I found it last week when I was cleaning out the birdhouses. It resonates pretty strongly with me as my house remains empty, but it also makes me think of my favorite Emily Dickinson poem.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops, at all
And sweetest in the Gale is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm
I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest Sea
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.