What’s in the nest?
“I’m going to see what’s going on in that nest, Ma,” my four year old declares. This is the first sentence out of my daughters’ mouth every morning, ever since the time that blasted nest appeared in our backyard.
“It’s just two eggs, darling. A birdie family has made them, we cannot disturb their nest so often,” I reply patiently, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
The nest in a tree situated in our backyard was all my curious little daughter could think of these days. She pestered me with questions about birds, eggs, nests, cats and every other relatable word she could find — and I tried my best to swallow my irritation, as I resolutely answered all her questions.
She was home for the holidays and loved pottering in the backyard; discovering plants, bugs and all sorts of similar things in nature that I related to ‘mud in the house’. And the fact that she was curiouser than a cat, didn’t help!
The nest was the high point of her holidays. She would go out into the backyard, climb the ladder and observe the eggs, arrange the hay and generally speak to the ‘little baby birdies’ who were still in their eggs.
Today afternoon I spy her clambering up there the ladder with a book. “Oh God! She’s going to read a book for the baby birdies today,” I complain to my husband over the phone. He’s amused, I’m just irritated. “What’s this obsession with a nest of all things?” I persist.
“Go with the flow,” is the sage advice I get, and so I suck it up and try to go with the flow — it’s not easy though, especially when you can see your daughter spending more time with the eggs and birdies than her mother!
I return to my computer screen. She’s singing to the birdies now? (I roll my eyes).
The next day dawns bright and sunny. As usual she comes down to breakfast with her sentence of the day, ““I’m going to see what’s going on in the nest, Ma.”
“And good morning to you too,” I reply to her retreating figure.
As soon as she climbs up, I hear a piercing scream — and I rush out, my heart in my mouth. “WHAT HAPPENED BABY?” I scream right back.
She’s beside herself with excitement. “The birdies have come out of their eggs, Ma!” she squeals in delight, “ two little baby birdies, Cookie and Sweetie!!”
I breathe in relief. “At least she’s not hurt,” I think, as I try to calm down my shattered nerves.
“Looks like she’s going to live up there on the ladder today,” I tell my bemused husband. “What she sees in those birdies is beyond me. She’s even named them!” I grumble.
The long day wears on and I have the good fortune to see my daughter at ground level this afternoon as she appears at lunch, absolutely muddy and dishevelled — but displaying a huge smile.
“I’ve been searching for wormies to feed my birdies,” she declares, making me jump up and get her to wash up before she touches anything. “And who told you that birdies eat worms?” I ask, trying desperately to soap those little fingers, hoping I can get all the mud and grime out. “Daddy,” came the prompt reply. I roll my eyes heavenwards. “Yeah, that’s all I need — my four year old scavenging through the mud to look for worms,” I think as I lead her back to the dinning table.
“Sweetie”, I say as patiently and hopefully as possible, “The mommy bird will feed her babies, you don’t have to find worms for them, darling.”
“But, I do, Ma,” came the prompt reply, “they are OUR birdies, in OUR tree.” Since I couldn’t think of a suitable reply, I shut up, storing away some nice questions to ask my husband later — about worms and birds!
Lunch done, I hear the all too familiar line again, ““I’m going to see what’s going on in that nest, Ma.” I just nod, knowing nothing I do or say is going to make any difference to her now. The birdies are out of their eggs, and she’s absolutely over the top.
The past 2 weeks have been a crazy— me trying to tell her to get down from the ladder and come have her meals and she ignoring me the best she can, while she is either singing songs to the birdies or searching for worms under rocks and mud.
Her birdies are growing. The day they leave the nest will not be soon enough for me. Yet I dread the effect it will have on her.
I knew the ‘dee’ day had arrived when my little one discovered the empty nest one fine morning. She burst into tears and called to me to come see the empty nest.
Her sadness pierced me like a physical pain and I did all I could to cheer her up. The empty nest had stirred up feelings of pain and abandonment in her that no four year old should ever have to experience.
We just sat on the couch, holding on to each other that afternoon. Later that evening, my husband arrived home and joined us on the couch; all of us mourning the empty nest.
After she’d drifted off to a restless sleep, we decided to bring down the empty nest and place in in our verandah, hoping to lure another set of birds to divert our daughter’s attention.
The next morning, I heard a piercing scream and I ran all the way to my daughters room, astonished to find her jumping with joy.
Confused, I looked at her and seeing me she squealed, “Ma!!! Cookie and Sweetie have come back!!!” pointing towards the verandah.
Surprised, I went out to take a look and to my utter delight, I found 2 baby birds zooming around the nest!
“It’s impossible,” I say to my husband, as I wake him up.
“Well,” came his reply, “love can fill up every empty nest.”
-Christabelle
