Flew the Coop
But no happy ending
Mom and her nest-building collection of fluff
There is a major downside to anthropomorphizing the dark-eyed Junco birds born in my garage. I climbed a ladder, peeked into the garage door opener motor, and just like last spring, I saw two baby fledglings, all cozy in their nest. The Mom’s been looking after them for weeks.
Yesterday when I stepped outside, there was a flurry of tiny feathers on the concrete floor of the carport. I got back up there to look in - no babies. I’ve surmised that the mom was bringing the fledglings out of the nest, and the calico cat I saw lurking around the front gate last week got them. One of them. Maybe both. My heart sank.
After a deep fact-gathering dive, I discovered that the moms - and dads - get frantic at the loss of their offspring, but quickly move on, building a new nest and making more babies. I’m trying to believe that they aren’t ruminating over their loss, but for me, I feel sick and sad. Sometimes I wish I could move on from grief like that, and not dwell.
When visiting nature preserves, many have non-intervention policies, prohibiting visitors from messing with the natural order of things. If a predator catches prey, you let them. It’s hard for humans to watch, and not step in.
The baby Juncos are gone. Feathers are on the ground. There’s a new calico in town. I’m doing the devastating math, but have no absolute conclusion, and no control.
There’s something about the mystery of the unknown. Trying to find the answers, my mind and brain do overtime. I crave clarity and closure, but I’ll have to feel a bit crushed, then move on with hope for the next occupants of my now-empty nest.
Deleted the depressing photo of the flurry of feathers, and replaced with empty nest
PS - I’m more than halfway to my fundraising goal for the AAMDS Foundation, thanks to all of you. It’s not too late if you’d like to support this amazing organization by clicking on the link below: