So. Baby birds. Start back here if you didn't catch that post. Mucho thanks-o.
OK, then. Let's just skip ahead to the birds' eighth day of life because that's when they rose from the nest and gave me a heart attack. I casually strolled down the driveway, camera in hand, all ready to take another photo of them snuggled nice and warm in their nest. Just as I reached the bush, there was an explosion as four tiny beasts suddenly leapt from their homes and flew straight towards my head in an attempt to gouge my eyes out.
Or maybe I startled them and they were all, "ABORT! ABORT! OUT OF THE NEST!" Whatever.
Regardless, the four little babies flew all over the yard. They weren't terribly good at the whole flight thing, but they were able to go about ten feet before making a little crash landing. I managed to find three of the four scattered around the yard.
The one in the grass got a little irritated with the paparazzi and tried to go all Britney Spears with a tiny bird umbrella. See:
Sadly, I haven't seen any of the birds since they tried to murder me. It's a sad little empty nest by our driveway now. :-(