Four baby birds...
This past Sunday my husband noticed that one of my window boxes had toppled over and was laying on the ground. I was surprised, because the box was filled with soil and caladiums; however, we experienced strong storms which I assumed blew it down. I had also seen the mama cat trying to use it as a litter box, or so I thought. Maybe she knocked it to the ground.
Upon closer inspection I noticed what appeared to be a nest. Then I saw three baby birds huddled together on the ground and one baby bird hidden in the soil. The mama cat had not been looking for a litter box; she had been spying out a protein snack. She must have been startled when the box toppled over, and thankfully, the four little birds were still alive. I called to David who helped me move the nest to one of the tall shrubs located closest to the window...out of Ms. Kitty's reach. Then he took a serving spoon and carefully placed each little bird back into its nest. The mother bird watched all the activity from the limb of a mimosa tree. After we were finished with the painstaking operation, she flew to the side of the house, then down to the ground, then into the shrub. Mother and babies were reunited and safe.
We returned to our lawn chairs and watched the mother bird repair the nest and feed her babies. Each time she returned to the shrub, she looked at us and chirped deliberately as if to say, "Thank you for saving my four baby birds."
How Can We See That Far...One of my most favorite singer/songwriters is Amy Grant. I grew up listening to her music and learning life lessons from her thoughtfully-penned lyrics. I especially appreciate a song that she co-wrote with Tom Hemby entitled How Can We See That Far. The song tells the story of the high expectations of young love...holding hands, dressed in white, promises said by candlelight.
Then the words of the chorus bring advice from a wise father: But like your daddy said, how can we see that far? The same sun that melts the wax can harden clay, and the same rain the drowns the rat will grow the hay. And the mighty wind that knocks us down, if we lean into it, will drive our fears away.
The bridge of the song reinforces the message to the young lovers: We might die, we might live, we could hurt each other badly, do things so hard to forgive. And if time is not our friend, your mind might forget me before the end, and oh I cannot ~ I cannot look that far.
On the following Monday, we once again encountered threatening thunderstorms during the middle of the night. I awoke to loud claps of thunder and rain pouring off the tin roof of the house. Then I thought about the four baby birds in the shrub next to the house. I jumped out of bed, ran to the guest room window, and opened the blinds. My heart sank. We had so carefully placed the nest right beneath the excess run-off from the roof. The rain that was watering the earth was drowning the four baby birds. How Can We See That Far?
I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the pouring rain empty into the tiny nest like a faucet. As my husband had attempted to avoid the almost certain casualties of a hungry mama cat, he had not foreseen the unexpected calamity of a poorly-positioned nest combined with torrential rains. And what I had witnessed as a new lease on life ~ a blessing, good fortune, favor, success, a miracle ~ had ended in deluge.
It's like the daddy said, how can we see that far? It's the same sun and the same rain. The same wind that fuels the forest fire cools the brow of the farmer. The same wind that creates the hurricane comforts the babies on the beach.
I continued to sit on the edge of the bed and watch the rain. There was nothing I could do, and sometimes that just sucks. However, as the sun began to rise, the rain stopped and a chorus of song ensued. I listened as the birds welcomed the morning with harmonious acceptance. The storms of the night had not silenced their songs. But what about the probability of hungry cats or torrential rains or devastating loss? For the birds, each day dawns with a chirping symphony ~ no suspense, supposition, or suspect, just a simple song of salute. Presumption, serendipity, circumstance, chance...how can we see that far? Everyday, come what may...it's the same sun and the same rain.
Dianne ; )
Oh, by the way...the four baby birds ~ they survived to sing another day!
