By Heather O.
We’ve discovered a family of rabbits living under our bush, and keep seeing baby bunnies darting about. Some squirrels apparently planted some acorns in our hibiscus plant, which caused small oak trees to sprout in my container box this spring. And on Saturday, we found this:
The second picture is to give you some perspective (and no, that’s not some funky nailpolish I’m wearing–it’s pink paint from the baby’s room. Yes, pink. And how I feel about having a pink room is another post entirely.)
We found this tiny, beautiful, perfect nest inside our hanging plant on our porch. I checked on it yesterday, and there has actually been a fourth egg added. I will pause now for a collective, “Ahhh, how sweet!”
I haven’t seen the mother bird, though, and I keep wondering if we are going to have a version of “Are you my mother?” played out right on our front porch. Aren’t they supposed to sit on their eggs, or protect them, or something like that? I mean, I expect to be dive bombed from some angry mommy sparrow every time I go out the door, but alas, no such luck.
So, since I don’t see a mother around, and I am bursting to the brim with hormonal motherly instinctual goodness, of course I feel sort of responsible for these little guys. Or girls. Or, um, whatever you call baby birds. I wonder if they are warm enough. If the rain will damage the nest. If I watered the plant too vigorously before I realized there was a nest there. And what happens if they can’t peck their way out of the shell? Is there such a thing as C-sections for baby birds?
And I just can’t help but marvel at nature and the beauty of spring and the gift of life. I know there is some profound analogy to be made about my pregnancy and the parallelism of the cycle of life, and um, something being renewed and, you know, like manifested in the perfectness of these eggs, but that kind of stuff is a little bit beyond my brain at the moment. It’s a little bit occupied building some lungs, I think. Feel free to draw your own analogy, though.
For right now, I’ll just smile and enjoy the nest while I ponder one important question…
Who do you think will pop first–me, or the eggs?
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