Here is Jeff's nail bag.
He had seen a mama bird in the shed several times. I'd seen her myself; she flew at me one day. The next time I went in the shed, I banged on the walls first to eradicate any violent birds. Last weekend, Jeff went to look for something in the shed and thought he'd check around for a nest.
We could see five. Not sure if there are more. They sat so still I got a little concerned, but then one of them blinked at me. Very precious.
She's a Bewick's Wren.
I was taking pictures of the babies when she flew in with the food. I heard her fluttering wings as they stopped her in midair and sent her the other direction. She hopped to a nearby sawhorse and then to a tree, watching Jeff and me.
We stepped away from the babies and I stood camera ready, but we were still too close. Jeff said she didn't want us to know where her nest was. So I tromped into the tall grasses and crouched down while Jeff stepped several feet away. She finally came back and stood on this silver thingy with holes in it for at least a minute or so.
Then she flew into the shed,
perched on a barrel,
hopped into the nest, and fed her wee, small children.
Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?