By LISA PRICE

lprice@tnonline.comAnd just like that, one day it was time for them to go.I dangled my fingers into the nest to make sure, and for a couple days I kept a lookout for the straggler I'd put back into the nest a couple times. But none of them returned.The previous winter, I'd said many times, "I can't wait until it's warm enough and I can sit on the porch in the morning and drink coffee." Then winter lingered and mornings were still too cool, although I tried the morning coffee on the porch a couple times wearing a jacket and hat.Finally, the temperatures warmed. But in the meantime, a robin had built a nest inside a wreath that hangs on the house next to the front door. She was sitting on eggs, and every time I went out the front door, she immediately flew for a good distance.A good friend of mine had made the wreath from a weather-resistant camouflage material and given it to me as a gift. She decorated it with a little plastic hunter man who has a little white plastic bird on his head, and a couple of spotted deer figures are spread out around the wreath. The robin built the nest right next to the hunter, as if he were a guardian.So although it was finally warm enough to drink coffee on the porch, I stayed away so I wouldn't spook the robin. As temperatures dipped to the 30s and 40s overnight, I found myself worrying about the eggs. Sometimes I'd check to see if the robin was gone, and if she was, touch the eggs to see if they were warm. They always were.One day I spotted a broken blue shell on the porch floor. The eggs had hatched. At first, I amused myself when the robin was gone by touching the little ones on the head to watch them in unison throw open their beaks. Then I felt guilty that maybe I'd made them expend too much energy.And I didn't know if the robin was going to be able to find enough worms since it was so dry. I laid a couple pieces of cardboard in the yard, holding them down with bricks and soaking them with water. Every day, I had plenty of worms.First I tried putting a couple of worms in plain view on the porch railing. The robin was not interested. Then I put them in the yard, on a piece of cardboard. Again, the robin was not interested. So I thought I'd eliminate the middle man and try feeding the worms to the little robins myself this proved to really be a lot of fun.As the days passed, things got noisier and noisier. The robin was seemingly constantly feeding the youngsters, who set up a racket of chirping whenever she was near.Then one morning there was an unusual amount of chirping. From my desk, I could see a robin standing on the porch railing, chirping to beat the band. She flew to the pine tree, and if anything, chirped more loudly.I got to see the fledging one by one, the three little robins flew away from the nest and landed in the pine tree. But an hour or two later, there was another commotion of chirping one of the robins was on the ground, inside my fenced yard, surrounded by a group of German shorthairs that fortunately are taught to point birds.I scooped up the little bird, and not knowing what else to do, put him back in the original nest and gave him a couple worms. I didn't see him leave, but soon he was gone. The next day, he was down in the grass again, this time outside the fence. There was another rescue to the nest and snack; since then he hasn't returned.That evening I went to the Weatherly Area High School graduation, and watched 48 seniors fledge. I knew, watching their proud families, that they'd been raised under watchful eyes and given help when they needed it.Just like that, one day it was time for them to go. In the words of one of my favorite singers, John Prine, "Time doesn't fly; it bounds and leaps." All around town, there would soon be empty nests. We can just hope that their flights fill us with amazement.