Where do the Grogs go at night?

Rolling

& below, Five having Fun

while elsewhere...

was Six, the clever Cacher

Last night,  I went late to Grog territory to see if the sextuplets returned to the nest at night. At eight o'clock sharp, the parents who had been sitting by me, gave a sharp call and flew around their area. I had thought they might call them back to the nest. Instead, the six all settled down to sleep on a branch in the sycamore tree. Three rested close together, another on a branch below them and the other two on a separate branch on the other side of the tree.

As the sky darkened, I lost track of the parents. A hooded oriole made his grated clicking sounds and the sprightly phoebe with his young nowhere in sight, was still fishing the air. The woodpecker I had seen in the morning made no drumming sounds to give himself away. The hummingbirds continued to drink the sweet nasturtiums that paled in the moonlight while the melancholy cry of the owl fortunately was unheard.