|
Talk about contrast — fiction vs. reality. Following up on last month’s bird-nest cliffhanger, I naively thought the robin report would be simple: “Three fledglings emerged and a few days later, I saw them take flight across the lake.” NOPE. Here is the reality: 6/5: a hatch in Nest #6! 6/13: the nestlings resembled finger puppets [I went to Missoula for a few days] 6/19, night: a parent-robin outburst for unknown reasons 6/20, morning: I spotted a chubby fledgling hopping around (it pooped everywhere) 6/20, afternoon: I found a deceased fledgling (see 6/19 entry) and buried it near a fern out front 6/23: an empty nest?… no, there was an unhatched egg! [several days of quiet] 6/27: a new clutch was laid, again in Nest #6 7/9: the second hatch yielded four nestlings 7/16, morning: I saw a fallen baby bird on the ground… dead?… no! ALIVE!… I returned it to the nest — thank goodness for the internet (and in the minutes I held that little alien, my heart expanded) 7/16, afternoon: I placed a table and box with cushioning underneath the nest because… 7/17 thru 7/20: a baby bird dropped into the box everyday; I returned each to the nest (my inner-neurotic-parent mode is at an “11”) 7/21, morning: I saw a fledgling on my doorstep, then another, then another (oh, the relief! x 3) 7/21, afternoon: only one remained in the nest… I have a glass front door, through which I observed all of the above. I hadn’t actually seen the first three birds make “the jump” and was compelled to wait for the fourth’s final exit. I am a cautious person, so connected with the last occupant’s hesitancy. I thought about life-changing decisions and the friction that can arise between heart/gut and mind. That little bird gingerly stretched one wing, then another, and wobbled in a slow-ish way. I kept saying, “You have everything you need, you just don’t know it” — and invited that idea to sink deeper into my own being. About 45 minutes in, both wings suddenly fluttered in sync and something clicked. Its overall movements were now quicker, more like a bird in the wild. As my friend Kimm would say, “The old shoe no longer fit.” After a few more minutes, there was a moment when half-jump and half-slip met, and an official decision was no longer required. The final nestling fell right into the box and a parent soon arrived to guide the way. It was a inspiring transition to witness.
|
