About 10 days ago, I was alerted to a bird’s nest by my two children. The nest sits nestled away in a forsythia bush right outside my bedroom window. Since the bush is on the north side of the house (and is long past bloom), it does not get much attention. So, had my children not stumbled upon the tiny miracle, I probably never would have known it existed.
They excitedly took me outside to have a look at the tiny baby birds that had just hatched. The nest was well camoflaged, and very difficult to see, were it not for the bright orange beaks that opened and closed ever so slowly, eager for the next meal from their mother. The birds were small, scrawny, bald, and had rubbery necks and brightly colored mouths. I shared the girls’ sense of wonder and felt a sense of pride that the Mother Robin had chosen our tree to build a nesting ground for her babies. We watched for a while, from a distance, and I instructed the kids not to disturb the tree, touch the nest, or be a nuisance to the Mama Bird who was trying to protect her offspring. They obliged.
The nest became a source of pride for the entire family. The girls eagerly showed it to their friends, neighbors, and grandparents. I checked on the nest multiple times a day: right when I awoke from the pefect perch of my bedroom window, then again mid-morning, and early in the evening. I would only get close enough to see the nest, never close enough to disturb it or cause alarm in the Mama Bird. I watched with awe as the bald little weaklings began to hold their heads up for longer intervals, make little noises when they were hungry, and sprout mottled gray feathers. We sat in the backyard and watched the Mama Bird tirelessly fly off in search of food and return to the nest. She did this over and over and over again. And, her babies grew.
Not really an expert on the life cycle of birds, but watching their astoundingly quick growth pattern, I could sense that our time was coming to an end. The birds were now fully covered in feathers, were completely alert and were completely filling the nest. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they tried to fly and moved on to perhaps another tree, another yard, another state. I tried to prepare my children for the fact that one day we were going to go outside and the nest will be empty. They said they understood and muttered something about how “they learn that stuff in school, Momma.” I mentioned to my husband that I was going to be sad to see them go. He looked at me with that tender look he has that says, “I cannot really relate, but I love you for the tender, sentimental goofball that you are.”
That micro-conversation with my husband only happened 2 days ago. Yesterday, I went outside after dinner to do my late day check, and there was only one bird left in the nest. No Mama, no siblings. I guess everyone else’s flying lesson went really smoothly and off they went. The lone bird looked at me with its beady black eyes and was careful not to move. As silly as it sounds, I got a little misty-eyed, and went inside.
Brenna, my oldest and ever in tune with my emotions, asked what was wrong. “There is only one bird left in the nest,” I replied quietly while averting eye contact and trying to get my emotions in check. To which she said, “It’s okay, Momma. All birdies have to leave the nest some time.”
It was then, and only then, with the tender ebrace of my eldest daughter, that I realized that my emotion wasn’t really about those birds outside my bedroom window. It was much more about the two birds in my very own nest. And how each passing day they grow a little more, need me a little less, and are sprouting wings of their own. That’s what really gets me choked up.
I walked outside this morning, after my husband left for work and the kids were dropped at school, and took a peek at the place that I have been watching so closely for the past ten days. No birds. The nest, just as I suspected it might be, was empty. It happened so fast. Just like life….
I walked outside this morning, after my husband left for work and the kids were dropped at school, and took a peek at the place that I have been watching so closely for the past ten days. No birds. The nest, just as I suspected it might be, was empty. It happened so fast. Just like life….
