Babies
I am the proud grandmama of three nests of birds this year. Above my front door, on a private ledge, two kinds of birds – robins and phoebes – have set up households. They’ve come here before. They have fought over the territory in a variety of ways, the phoebe pulling apart the robin’s nest two years ago, and the robin dive bombing the phoebe nest last year. Finally, they’ve decided to live in peace.
They have something in common – babies. Each prepares slightly differently. Phoebes likes to restore last year’s nest, adding mud and grass to the dense existing structure tucked tightly against a beam and under a rafter. Robins likes to roll a little looser. Maybe last year’s nest will do, and maybe it won’t. New grasses, drooping additions, a kind of hippie approach to what a house can be. Then, eggs are laid quickly, and mama robin is in place. The phoebes fly about, both mama and papa, fixing up, trying to get it all in place with their trademark whooping up and down and familiar language. And then the eggs. Both nests have 3 eggs this year.
This year, though, and because I didn’t get the screens on the porch soon enough, I have a pair of purple finches nesting up on a beam inside the porch. Mr. Finch doesn’t seem to visit the nest, but stands guard below — ready, willing, and able. I haven’t seen the babies yet, but it’s clear they are delighted from all the singing they’re doing. These parents are all doing their work and taking great care.
It’s easy to be optimistic with all this new life around me. I have a feeling there are baby wild turkeys nearby, maybe baby porcupines, and surely fawns that won’t come out for another month. The world full of new, tender life.
So it’s with the greatest of sorrows that I have watched the murder of 18 little chicks at the Robb Elementary School in Ulvade, TX. Children with splendid smiles. Children that resemble their eager, loving parents. Baby chicks that have done nothing but to thrive with the attention of their mamas and papas and teachers.
I would no more throw a nest to the ground in the middle of breeding season than give someone the right to walk in with an AR-15 and mow a classroom of children down. There is no right for that gun in a peaceful, nest of children only trying to learn to read, getting ready to fly.
Shame on Mitch McConnell. Shame on the NRA. Shame on everyone who believes they have a right to own an assault rifle whose only true purpose is to kill.
I cannot get over the contrast in my day – thriving baby birds, and the dead ones – heart wrenching. Can we stop the killing of the innocents?