Today a baby bird died – or rather in the night. 

Somehow he had the strength to push out of the nest. Twice.

At first he didn’t seem ready and landed in a dangerous place. So taking wildlife advice, he was returned to his home. But falling twice may have been too much, because he didn’t roam.

He didn’t hop, he didn’t flutter, he didn’t have the means. His back legs splayed behind and all he did was desperately try to move.  Has he got a chance?

So he was placed with tender gloved hands, on a low perch – in a bed of straw, like his nest, and left for the night. His sibling was nearby, watching. By the night’s end, he also snuggled in the bed of leaves.

But the weak one didn’t make it through the night.

In the early morning, Mama was nearby sending her mothering chirps in search of her babies. So I tenderly buried the lost one on a bed of leaves in the earth – and destroyed the false nest so the other one would leave.  I told him to head on out into the world because he was ready, and mama waited for him. 

He is ready to leave the nest, but still not ready to fly. His sibling was not ready to leave the nest but still insisted on trying. Sometimes nature is cruel and gives us false hope or just pits us against impossible odds. 

My lost friend and my new friend gave me a stern reminder about the world.

Before our own fledglings hop out of the nest, we must do all we can to make sure they are strong and ready.  That fall to the ground can be perilous.  

Do their legs have the strength to hold them up – even just for a little while?

Do their wings have the strength to open– even just to flutter for a while?

Can they hop to safety, however meek it is, on their own – even just until the morning when someone who cares can help them take the next step – or flight.

Just like my lost friend, they may think they are ready; but the world will soon let them know if they are not.