Remember my last post about a bird nest in my yard?
The parents built their wacky hanging nest. Then they came and went and came and went, like birds do.
I put up my emotional dukes, like I do, addressing myself in a stern voice: This nest, including its builders and inhabitants, is none of your business, Amy. In fact it's SO not your business that it is practically criminal voyeurism to pay any attention at all.
"Ha!" Nature says, "HA! HA! HA!"
The eggs hatched.
Other people heard them but I couldn't until day four or five when the babies were big and strong enough to make a sound even my waxy old ears could detect. It was a creaky peep like tiny rusted hinges.
Today one of the babies fell or jumped out of the nest.
OF COURSE IT DID!
Nature pulls that shit all the damn time! What the hell is it with nature that babies have to fall out of nests?
"Oopsie!" Nature simpers. "Tra-la-la."
The baby is unbearably cute and round and weighs no more than a leaf. It is trusting and defenseless and in no way prepared for this world of hawks and coyotes and kitties and my own evil roommate hounds, or wind or cold or night.
But Nature shrugs one shoulder and looks away with a yawn, leaving the frantic parents, and the baby and me to figure it out -- or not.
|This is the real nest -- Way, way high in the tree|
|This is the basket we hung as high as we could reach in his tree to imitate his nest. So far, the parents are feeding him there, but what happens tonight when it gets cold????|
P.S. Thanks to Em & Juan for their profound basket hanging skills.