Wisdom of teenagers

Fledgling robins fly about the garden, hoping to still be fed. Or something. Two stood on the far side of one of the garden fence panels, giving the mulched garden the side-eye. Then one tried to hop in as though the chickenwire wasn't there.

Then it tried again. And again. And its nestmate tried too. Three times. Finally both wandered off. As far as I can tell, they didn't try to fly in that day. Not that there was much to dig for in the wood-chips.