First Flights and Other Wonders
Here's Daisy enjoying a video of baby robins leaving their nest.
On Saturday we had way above average summer weather. Low humidity (read: less than 60%), perfect temps (80s) and blue sky set off by puffy, non-ominous white clouds. The hubby and I were hanging out on the patio, getting ready to go for a walk with Daisy H. Larsen the Dog, when a robin crash landed in a flower pot a few feet away. He shook his head and blinked at us, like, "What just happened? Did you see that?"
We realized we had just watched him take his first flight from his nest in the Bradford Pear in the corner of our yard. He was little for a robin (but bigger than the chicks we saw in the nest who could barely hold their tiny necks up for worms to be stuffed down them). He had bedhead and cute little gray and white polka dots, like a new driver has a sign on the car.
Whit and I watched, breathless, as he gathered himself for his second flight. You know how you learn a new card game and the first hand you play you beat everyone at the table like a whiz? And then you play the second round with uber confidence, only to come in dead last? That's what happened to little mister. He fluffed himself up and took off, but about 15 feet in, his altitude dipped severely and then he was over the street, crash landing on his chest. Ouch. He hopped the rest of the way to the curb (smart bird) and sat under a tree.
Every thing in me wanted to rush to him, tell him it's OK and try to help him fly and/or give him landing lessons. Right away a couple things occurred to me:
He's a bird. I am not a bird (I do not eat worms and my legs are way too big).
His parents, who are birds, let him fly away on his own and were nowhere to be found to offer him treats, rewards, words of encouragement, aid or pity.
Rockin Robin did get his act together and we witnessed his 3rd and 4th flights (shorter jaunts and landing a little higher up). I suddenly thought of his siblings, and all the other baby birds learning to fly all around the world [who also didn't need me. And evidently this has been going on for millennia without my aid. Strange].
It was cool to see this phenomena in person, as I had been recently sent this video about robins hatching, eating, growing and leaving their nest. You'll love it; check it out here.
Thinking about Rockin Robin and his siblings inevitably led to my thinking about the baby birds in my experience: my books, my personal growth, my relationships. All the things that I am so tempted to coddle and suffocate (and basically keep grounded) because I'm not trusting that they are designed to fly. Like Mom and Pops Robin, I've fed, nurtured, loved and provided a good home base, but ultimately, they aren't mine to personally keep.
Yesterday was not my favorite day for a bunch of reasons that I won't get into, but suffice it to say, I felt like I had bedhead and crash landed in the middle of the street one time too many. I could not stop thinking about that baby robin and how I just knew that he was going to be OK; he was meant to fly and I had the pleasure of witnessing a simple wonder of nature without putting my grubby hands on it. So today I'm letting all the good that's natural in my life take wing and soar. I'm trusting Nature, God, to take care of all my little nestlings.
