Almost three weeks ago a Robin family's youngsters fledged the nest early, and for the past few weeks I've been giving them a helping hand with live meal worms in a wall feeder. Then about this middle of this week he disappeared and I haven't seen him since or heard his song. Fingers crossed he's OK.
That song was replaced however, by an ever louder screeching of young chicks from a Starling nest, not far from the Robin's, in the eaves of my house. These guys normally take around three weeks to fledge, and unlike the Robins, they seemed late. That was until this morning, when the nest fell silent, and it is safe to say they too have now fledged.
A new visitor now comes to the feeder for what's left of the meal worms, in the shape of a Sparrow, no doubt feeding young of its own.
The familiar sound that summer has arrived has returned to the sky above the house once again; the shrill screech of the acrobatic, and aptly named, Swifts.
Nearby, one of my favourite walks is through a local park called the Figgate, where a large pond dominates the centre, and birds of a wide variety breed there at this time of year. Keen to see what other families were new beyond my small garden, I took a wander at the end of the week.
And I wasn't disappointed.
A family of swans with their six fluffy signets were happily swimming around, pecking at the surface of the water, following closely to their majestic-looking parents. At one point they left the pond to walk across the path to the nearby burn, and I could see that the male was limping badly from an injured left leg. In the water he seemed fine, so hopefully all will be well.
Two families of Mallard ducks were noisily making their way around, with one set slightly older than the other judging by size. Sitting upon the remains of last years swans nest, was a family of Moor Hens, their scrawny, ugly little heads poking out of mum's wing when dad returned with a tasty morsel.
Some trees were still sporting their blossom, but most were now in full leaf, and the last of the bluebells adorned wild corners.
It has all been a bit later than usual this year, but in the past week everything has suddenly exploded in growth.
One of my favourite scenes was of a field covered in dandelion seed heads, the sun just catching a small area as they waited on the breeze to dislodged them.
I miss the Robin, sitting on his usual branch in the Birch, staring through the kitchen window, waiting for me to put more food out, and the racket of the Starlings in their nest, greedily calling out for more and more bugs from mum and dad.
Everything has now fledged from my garden, all away to start their new lives, and it seems just that little bit dull and silent without them. I'll never forget this Spring, when a Robin chose to make its nest right at my back door.