My first egg had appeared Tuesday. There was another new one every day through Friday's nest check, when there were a total of four. She laid five last season so when I checked the nest at 1 p.m. on Saturday, I was expecting to find that many again. But there was only one.
Naturally this distressed me so I made a point of spending the remaining afternoon doing yardwork and generally keeping an eye on the nest. Around 5 in the evening, I was preparing to post the story here and ask what I might substitute for anti-snake netting (to protect the lone remaining egg), since I obviously wasn't going to find anyplace that sells it before Monday morning (even though I'm not convinced this was the work of a snake). I went to make one last nest check before coming in the house and the nest was empty. M-T. Something had made off with the single remaining egg, right under my nose. Between 1 and 5 in the afternoon.
At that point I started sleuthing and found bits of two broken eggs (or maybe just one, in two halves) right beneath the house. And another more nearly complete white PUMA-sized egg shell about 20 paces toward the house, smashed and its contents mostly gone. But there was no sign of the culprit. I had mowed earlier in the day and might have destroyed other evidence, if there was any.

I had thought the nest they built this year would be invulnerable, a PUMA D-I-Y SREH. There's more mud than sticks. I wondered how even they could manage to get in.
I know this bit of land too well, I've been tending it too long, and a snake -- any snake -- would be a true rarity. Plus, the bird house pole is white, which would have made any native snake pretty conspicuous as it crawled up it between the hours of 1 and 5 in the afternoon.
Then again, a coon or possum is even less likely, particularly since the PUMA's nest entrance is so nearly walled off, and the house's front wall had not been opened. And I'm pretty certain no four-legged critter could have sauntered across the yard that afternoon, unseen by me or my hounds.
I am mystified. And heartsunk. The only good bit of news is the birds haven't yet fled the nest, so I hold out hope they could return again next year. Regardless of what got their eggs, regardless of how "safe" I might be convinced this spot is, there's a predator guard in my pole's future.
