A Bird for Mother's Day

Baby Bird in Nest

Image courtesy of antpkr / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

There they were, three baby birds barely a few feathers on their tiny bodies, two of them squished by a careless person who hadn't noticed them upon the concrete and the other having died either from the fall or exposure.

I picked up the two squished bodies with haste but paused on the other baby bird.

Was it still alive? I had no idea.

I lightly brushed it with my gloved hand.

It didn't move.

I carefully picked the baby bird up and was taken aback by how delicate it's body was. How it's tiny head flopped in my hand and it was only then that I heard the sounds of a bird above my head calling out.

I looked up and saw this small bird, who's nest had been built into the letters in the marquee of my storefront calling out from the nest and looking around, in the way that birds do.

Now, I have no idea what happened whether the babies fell accidentally from this precarious nest or whether they were forced out by a sibling or another male bird. I also don't know if the bird I saw above me was the mother, or a dominant male, or an opportunistic squatter. All I know is what it looked like to me and that the irony of this being a Mother's Day was not lost on me.

I could lie and say that I wept for those dead baby birds, but that would be a lie. I was however moved by my interpretation of the events; the story I was concocting in my mind as to what had happened to the little chicks.

I believed, however dramatically, that the mother bird had come home from searching for food for her three babies only to find her nest empty.

The infants had accidentally, in their hunger and confusion stumbled from the precipice that had been their home and onto the hard, cold concrete below. (I can almost see the tiny things falling through space flapping their undeveloped wings and attempting to right themselves before crashing, unceremoniously against the sidewalk)

If they were lucky, that was the end of it. That fall was what ended their short lives.

They weren't lying on the cold, hard ground calling out to a mother who didn't answer their cries.

Happy Mother's Day.

 

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Filed under: Holiday, Justin, Personal

Tags: birds, dark humor, holiday

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