Leaving the Nest

Sitting on my deck this mid-morning, I am greeted by the now familiar squawks of birds protecting and coaxing their offspring into life beyond the nest. The curtain of clouds that had cast a dismal shadow over our mountain an hour earlier has moved on, and sunshine has returned with its promise and joy.

At this moment the blue jays are particularly vocal. I spot a squirrel scrambling much too close to the two baby chicks. Blue jay young leave the nest before tail feathers have fully developed, leaving them vulnerable and rather helpless. Yet, leave the nest they must.

The other week, one such blue jay fledging perched stubbornly on the deck stair post, having attempted to scale the stair rail... only to slide rather piteously backward to the landing. He was the ugliest blue jay I had ever seen.

Past being a chick, he was gawky and adolescent. The only recognizable marking of his future glory was the black ring around his eye and the one around his neck. I am not sure how long he stayed there; but later that day, I believe I saw him flutter out of the azalea bush below.

Summer began with a bluebird family with five chicks that skipped and flew about our backyard like it was some sort of practice gym. A neighbor and I share the most heavily wooded lots on the block, plus trampoline poles, a wooden fence, and several bushes that all the birds seem to enjoy as perches. For a solid week, they frolicked and chased one another as if playing a game. I was especially grateful for the bugs and moths they swooped down and swallowed.

Recently, a female towhee, who has been groundfeeding in our yard for weeks, built a nest in our neighbor’s cedar tree by the fence that joins us. She has been quiet there for several days. I am hoping she is still there. I just spotted the male towhee, with his black sportcoat and robin-like redbreast preen his feathers on a section of the fence nearby. I have never seen baby towhees before.

Families of house wrens, on the other hand, are frequent. In the winter months, wrens nestle in the eaves of our deck, taking refuge from the cold. Last June, one couple built their nest in our garage , finding a small gap in the dilapidated garage door we no longer use to make their entrance and escape. I was gone to a conference when the chicks hatched. But evidence of their practice flights in our garage (where my car was "safely" parked) left no doubt as to their presence.

A male cardinal who is apparently molting--his head appears featherless-- is calling out pleasantly from the post of our swingset. No one replies, so he moves on.

Earlier this morning I observed a young cardinal family. We have spied on hatchlings through a bedroom window, but have found the offspring difficult to identify once they were out of the nest. This morning I realized why. Unlike the blue jays, young cardinals leave the nest with adequate tail feathers. They look like the parents, just smaller in size.

What gave them away was their constant chirping and flapping. I could recognize their behavior as offspring before I actually got a good look at them. They hopped quite nervously from branch to branch, but never more than a few inches at a time. Mother was close by. They have since left the back corner of the yard where the tree branches clustered protectively.

The morning is warming into mid-day and the commotion has quieted, except for the persistent song of a bird I have not yet identified. Perhaps it is a mockingbird taking up another bird’s song and fooling me once again.

I have come to know the chuckle and gurgle of woodpeckers, the scratching of towhees, and the angry screeches of wrens, especially when squirrels venture to close. I have thrilled to get glimpses of rare Pileated Woodpeckers and listen to Flickers drill holes in branches high overhead.

But this summer, I have watched with vested curiosity that ever so difficult parenting task of the young leaving the nest. For I, too, have one that must begin to fly on her own. Who, still living at home, must still begin to leave the nest.

"Look at the birds...your Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are." Matthew 6:26 (NLT).