As I watched, she gathered more and more into her beak.
She walked further up the plant . . .
. . . grabbed a twig, and stepped back down.
She took a step up the plant again, and then stopped suddenly. It was if it occurred to her that the strand she was pulling on was still attached to the plant.
Having left her pocket knife at home, the robin had no other choice but to pull . . .
In the process of going after more fuzzy material, she dropped her twig. But she broke off the strand.
She went to the ground and gathered up more of the soft, fuzzy material.
With a beak full of the necessary materials in hand, it was just a matter of flying up to the nearby pine tree and beginning construction.
Or so she thought.
Having discovered the pine tree was already occupied, the robin I was watching flew off to another branch on the tree.
After resting briefly, she took her nesting materials and flew away.
No robin nested in my yard last spring. Maybe this spring will be better.