Some Sad News of the Avian Variety

Throughout this spring, I have been sharing the story of a family of birds that made their nest on our front door's wreath There was lots of anticipation, excitement, and speculation. We even named the little eggs, literally counting them before they hatched.

Then things slowed down. The parent birds visited the nest less frequently, then not at all. Hoping that I had just missed sightings for days, then weeks, we left the eggs alone. I even googled what variety of bird it may have been and how long it would take for the eggs to hatch. Eventually, I became more comfortable admitting our eggs were never hatching. I'm not sure what stage of grieving this it, but in my experience the bird-grief scale is different from the human one.

We made plans to bury our little nest, complete with the five eggs, in our yard. I became quite attached to the little guys and figured it was a courtesy I'd give to any of our other pets and it's the least I could do. It was also the only method of disposing of a nest full of eggs that didn't make me tear up. When the time came to bury the nest, we discovered it to be completely empty.

Burying it was no longer necessary, but I still laid the nest to rest under a tree in our yard. It's in the same pine needle it was built of and eventually it will resemble the haphazard needles more and a nest less.

RIP 

Easter, Bunny, Twitter, Mama's Boy, and Ugly Duckling

Early Spring 2014 - Late Spring 2014