The following was written by a dear colleague of my husband, a man of great wit and intelligence -- and a good dose of warmth as well.
We have a large statue on our front porch. She’s sturdily built woman about six feet tall and she has horns. I like to think of her as a Viking Goddess. The porch has an overhang that keeps the rain off of her, and her horns are just far enough apart so a robin’s nest fits snugly on top of her heard. We’ve had nests there for the past three years.
My office is in the house so I pass the front door 100 times a day as I get coffee and food and wander around to avoid work. I peek out through the leaded glass each time I pass. First I saw mama working on the nest. Then there were eggs, three of them, that perfect robin’s egg blue. Then there were three scrawny little birds and mama was busy all day bringing them food. Then they grew and fledged out and got fluffy. Then this morning when I came downstairs there was only one bird left. He (she?) was standing up on the edge of the nest getting ready to take his first flight.
I checked my email and drank a cup of coffee. When I passed the door again with my second cup he was still there, still getting ready to take that first step off the edge and into the air. I stopped to watch.
It’s probably not accurate to say he was trying to get up his courage. Birds don’t have courage. They don’t talk to themselves. But he sure looked like that’s what he was doing. First he preened the feathers on one side of his chest. Then he stretched his legs and stood up tall. Then he preened the other side of his chest. Then he stretched out his wings. Then he flapped them a little and did a little crouch like he was about to jump. But the crouch turned into a sort of bobbing motion, and he went back to preening again. Crouch, bob, stretch, flap, preen. Stop. Consider. Repeat.
He had been standing there for over an hour when mama appeared. She spent a minute or so pecking at the bottom of the nest, and then she flew away. She didn’t say “C’mon little bird, you can do it. Watch me.” But it sure looked that way. She didn’t say, “Be brave, little bird. You won’t fall. You’re a bird. You can fly.” But it sure looked that way.
After she left he did just a few more bobs and a few more flaps, and then he took off. His first flight was only about eight feet. He landed in a Rose of Sharon just off the porch where I could still see him. Then he did a little flurry of wing flapping that managed to turn him around a half turn. And then he flew away.
There are no such things as miracles. The world works according to the laws of physics and animals work according to the laws of biology and there is nothing supernatural about robins leaving the nest in the spring. Millions and millions of them have done it every spring for millions and millions of years.
At the same time, the wonder of it, the marvel of it, the exquisite beauty of it fills the heart until it aches with joy.
Happy Mother’s Day.
(Props to Barry Goldman)
~Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle~ Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
Blogs & Forums
Forums
Blogs
