Batman? Little help here?

I walked out onto my porch a couple of weeks ago, and a bird flew right by my head. It was a robin, and it sat on top of the garage roof and scolded me. I was wondering why, until I noticed that she had made a nest on the porch, in a flower pot we had hanging on the porch post:

I don't know why she would make the nest there -- it was basically in the open and any critter that wanted an easy meal could just hop up on the railing and chow down. I mean, I myself wouldn't eat them because they look like they'd probably be a little prickly going down, but there are cats in the neighborhood.

The proud parents were feeding them non-stop, and it was the first time I had ever witnessed this up close and personal, and trust me, you would not want to eat any of the things the adult robins brought home for dinner. Earthworms? Not so much. Nasty looking green grubs and weird looking insects -- I have no clue where the hell they were digging these things up, but dear god -- it was like stuff from another planet.

I found the whole thing fascinating, so I set my tripod and camera up next to the window, and whenever I thought about it, I'd snap a few shots. It was pretty incredible how fast they grew -- in just a few days they went from barely being able to hold their heads up, to this:

Here's an example of a fine gourmet meal:

After a few days of this, I noticed something odd. The babies would take the food, and then they would... well...give something back. It happened very quickly, so the first time, I thought I imagined it. After I saw it for the third time, I was sure. There was a split second where the adult robin would duck her head down, and quickly grab something, then swallow it. I managed to get a shot of it happening:

It looked like a fuzzball, or some compacted down or something. I figured maybe the fuzzy hair from the chicks was building up in the bottom. So I looked it up on the internet.

Big mistake.

Each newborn defecates within seconds of feeding. Four baby birds defecating forty times a day is a big mess. Although nestlings don’t come with diapers, Mother Nature understands the health risks of a nest littered with droppings and created the next best thing.

Each of the approximate one hundred sixty daily droppings comes neatly enclosed in a white, translucent sac known as a fecal sac. This eliminates a nest painted white from droppings; but now the parents have to get rid of the bouncing sacs. They are able to rid the nest of the bagged poop, conveniently deposited directly into their mouths right after feeding, before they leave to find more food. Since the fecal sacs are devoid of bacteria, the adult robins simply eat them.

So there you go. We have bouncing fecal sacs, straight from the tap and swallowed whole.

I'm sure many of you already knew this little tidbit, however I did not. In fact, I am pretty sure I would have been perfectly happy not knowing this for the rest of my life.

I will never again be able to see a robin hopping happily across my yard without immediately thinking about it chowing down on a steamy-fresh, conveniently packaged bag of poop.

Realistically, I knew the poop has to go somewhere, but still. Not what I expected.

Here's a picture of them right before they were fully-fledged, about two weeks after they hatched:

They don't look like they'd have filthy habits, do they? It's kind of like discovering Hugh Grant likes cheap hookers.

Here's a shot of the last fully-catered meal:

The first two chicks took off within minutes of each other, but this last guy was a chicken, and didn't leave the nest until much later in the day. I think he was annoyed with me pointing the camera at him every five minutes:

It was kind of sad to see them go, but at least we can use our side door again. Around five pm on the same night they all left the nest, I heard a commotion outside -- the robins were all screaming at the top of their lungs. I went out onto the back deck and looked up at the tree all the baby robins had flown to, and there was a red-tailed hawk sitting there eying his dinner.

Ah, the circle of life. Normally, I wouldn't care, and I think hawks are just about the coolest birds on the planet, but I had too much invested in these little guys to let the circle be quite that small -- so I chased the hawk away. I know, I know. Between chauffeuring chipmunks around and protecting baby birds, I'm turning into frikkin' St. Francis of Assisi.

I think I'm gonna have to go kill something to rebuild my street cred.