Nest filled with ugly
I can remember distinctly the first time I looked into a bird nest. We had a small garage beside the house. Not used for a car but it did have a small ladder going up to the attic if you will. And in this summer after Grade 1 or the spring I guess, I went up that ladder to look at what I knew was a bird nest. An occupied bird nest. I know that this was a nest built by robbins. I expected that the tiny birds inside would be at least as colourful as their parents or their eggs. Total fail. From my perspective few creatures are uglier than a newly hatched bird. All those stories about how birds have descended from dinosaurs are obviously true. There is nothing about a baby bird that inspires hope for the future. Hard to look at and hard to hear. Always hungry and the only good point is that this is just a stage. Within weeks baby birds get their feathers and fall from the nest and take on a new place in the universe. But for a six year old boy this was a revelation. To realize that things come in stages. And that even though puppies and babies are wonderful, fledglings are not. In fact I do not think that I have ever gone again to see inside of a bird nest. Once was enough. That garage building is now gone although I can describe the location precisely. The road beside it has overgrown and the railway tracks are just a memory. Nothing left but the memory. Meanwhile the birds are elsewhere. Generations removed from the moment. I wonder if I have any photographs? No need my memory is vivid and I will allow anyone else who wants to discover that wonder of nature to do it without my assistance. Children and grandchildren have to discover the world on their own terms.
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