Letting it happen

At this time last year, I was in the middle of an 18 day stretch of red and brown light spotting in my first pregnancy. I called my OB office daily wanting to come in for a check only to be told "spotting is normal" and they would see me at 8 weeks. Throughout that time, I kept coming across tiny hairless, dead baby birds along my walkway under my pine tree. Each time I would find one I would scoop it's tiny little body and bury it under the tree. Each time I had an awful feeling in my gut. Each little pink bird reminded me of what was happening inside of my body, a tiny little helpless creature losing its safe nest. My 8-week appointment was June 5th. There was no heartbeat and my first little one measured only 6w3d.

This year, I have not seen one dead bird and I have looked everyday along my brick walk. I took this as a good sign. Today when I got home there was a small baby bird under my tree, hopping and flapping its wings. It was unable to fly. It had black fluffy feathers and was smaller than a tennis ball. It was not injured, just stuck on the ground under my tree. I sat on my porch and watched the bird for over an hour, wondering what to do. My husband came home and seemed slightly curious but mostly uninterested in my obsession. I think he saw it as a cute little worry of mine. There was nothing cute about this. I was determined to help this little guy make it. I sat closely to the open window and listened to its cries. When it hopped too far from the tree and into my backyard, I shooed it gently back with a broom....all the while thinking about how I would get it into a shoe box so I could help it find a new nest. Either that or I was planning to set up camp by my window to make sure the kitty neighbors did not come by for an easy feast overnight. I felt there had to be something I could do to make sure this baby bird would survive.

I called my vet and they gave me the number of several urban wildlife rescue centers. All said the same thing...birds learn to fly from the ground up and they will jump out of the nest again. Their parents feed and care for them on the ground until they learn to fly. Watch from a distance, the parents are somewhere around, possibly out looking for food, and will return soon. It is this week in Denver that baby birds typically are all out learning to fly.

I realized the mom was close by. She would swoop down and feed the baby and then go back into the pine tree. She was teaching and nurturing from a distance and I was interrupting. After 4 hours of a song and dance between mama and baby....it is 8pm and I think it just learned to fly.

I have to believe that it was my stepping aside and allowing nature to takes it course that allowed this baby bird to be safe and okay. This was exactly the ending I needed tonight.