Those babies do grow up and must move on. I feel it in my bones, as raw and scary this moment as it was for me a year ago when my own walked—diploma in hand—toward a big and uncertain future. I look into the eyes of friends, mothers awash in this season of release, and my heart feels heavy. I know the burden.
I think, too, of the Eagles, two babies gone and the third (who was always most needy) still here, its cries a little more distant each day.
It is happening with the Canada Geese, as well. Just yesterday there were five tiny ducklings making the long journey from the distant shoreline to my world, little balls of fuzz tucked safely between their parents as they paddled across. Today they are gangly teens sprouting a crop of grown-up feathers. Awkward and clumsy, their too-big webbed feet present quite a challenge as they attempt to navigate the inconsistent terrain of our back yard.
Those babies have grown so fast. This Spring has passed so quickly.
And then today my husband calls me to the front door.
Take a look at this, he says, looking through the glass window so as not to cause an unnecessary ruckus. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed this before.
There, at the top of the second column on our front porch, the most perfect birdnest— lovingly attended by a beautiful, peaceful mourning dove.
Online sources tell me we can expect about two weeks of constant nesting, followed by a couple more weeks with babies, called squabs, in the nest. How thrilling to have a clutch this close! How wonderful to get to watch the story unfold.
New beginnings are around us every day, it is true. I have a beautiful reminder right there on my front porch, and I don’t even have to step outside to see it.
Beautiful!! Thank you for the reminder.