He's become nature's mother hen, so to speak. Concerned over whether there's enough fresh compost from kitchen waste taken out to satisfy the cravings of our constant visitors, the neighbourhood raccoons. It's amazing how attached one can become to these wildlife visitors. Before the pail is full but when it contains things that my husband feels would be nutritiously useful to the raccoons, out he hauls the pail. Anytime from the late afternoon to the evening and night-time hours the tell-tale sound of the composter-lid being moved informs us that our guests have returned.

During the winter months, he was scrupulous about putting out birdfeed and nuts in abundance for our neighbourhood squirrels, the occasional visit by wild rabbits and the raccoons, seeking cold-weather sustenance. Then it was concern for returning migrants, which came along in little flocks, eager to take their share of the offerings, particularly the oiled black sunflower seeds. And now, of course, we've got hefty sunflowers growing in the gardens, after I culled and thinned out some of the hundreds that managed without too much trouble to manifest themselves.

Now, it's concern over the welfare of the pair of robins that have chosen to nest under the elevated floor of our deck. They first made a couple of 'practise' nests, then finally completed the third, and have been busy sitting on eggs for several weeks, the male seen constantly alert nearby, often with a worm in his beak, preparing to deliver it to the female.

They don't seem the least bit perturbed by our presence nor that of our little dogs who often make quite a racket as they race about under the deck in their frequent chases. On one occasion my husband left small bits of cheese and halved, pitted cherries on top of the fence where the male robin often sits. We can't be certain whether he made use of them or whether squirrels made off with them, of course.

But my husband did notice something peculiar; last night when he took our two little dogs out before bedtime and Jillie squatted close to the nest under the deck, he hesitated to pick it up for disposal, not wanting to disturb the robins. A short while later, when he went out to pick up the stool to flush it down the toilet it wasn't where he'd last seen it, under the deck. A smaller version of it remained, removed a few feet beside the backyard gate.

And this morning, when Jackie eliminated in almost the same spot, the male robin made to swoop down on it, and my husband, fearing that a diet including dog stool might not be the healthiest in the world for the birds, swept it away for disposal inside a paper napkin before the bird could reach it.

What's more, aside from cautioning me not to make too much noise around the robins and their prospective nestlings (they may have hatched already), my husband went out on a mission, to acquire a reel mower. The electric lawn mower makes too much noise, he said, so he's using the hand mower now to silently cut the grass in the backyard. Just as well, it's a small backyard.