Diving season

   My neighborhood is a bit dangerous this time of year. No, it's not the young guys hooning in their souped up cars. Nor have petty thieves started congregating in larger numbers.
   It's nesting time.  And somewhere  in the tall tree planted  at the traffic circle at the corner of McMaster and Washington is a thrush nest. Or at least I think it is in the center. Might be in the northeast corner fig tree.  Hard to tell. We don't stand around long enough to search for it.  The thrush dive bombs everyone who walks past this corner (and who doesn't?) and snaps her wings at your shoulders and your head.  Keep away from my babies!  No one is safe. None of us has even the smallest inkling of hauling our backsides up a tree to bug this bird's bubs. But there is no avoiding this corner in the center of the street.
   Our neighbor Keith says that some magpie on the next street is also getting a bit territorial.  I noticed that he seems to keep a much faster pace these days. Me , too. I thought of getting a nice snapshot of someone copping grief from Mrs Thrush.  It would be altogether too easy with barely a wait for results.  Except that would have put me in harm's way, as well.  And I have no intention of recreating a scene from a particular Hitchcock movie.
   How long  does it take for baby birds to fly the coop?