However you name the kingdoms of life, humans have to fit in Animals, like it or not. This is the season of the year we can closely observe our own changes by watching the choices of our winged friends. You know how it begins: eggs, hatchlings, feeding , growing, and that moment comes when soft downy feathers disappear, space in the nest becomes a premium and something has to go. With the change comes a time to try exploring the world, though not entirely independently. The definitive term is a fledgling.
Adults have a very active part in this happening and I’ve watched it three different times. The first occurrence was at the end of a dirt road in Dayton, TX. Our small house was in front of a stand of several large pecan trees. One morning the air was ripped by screeches of a frightening decibel level. Little boys and I ran to the back yard. Two hawks were swooping and turning in a DNA formation. Soon we figured that one was less comfortable with flying and trying to come back to the tree while the adult kept edging it into the sky. As surety of motion built, the noise lessened, until finally the younger made a few turns on its own before heading to a limb to perch. On Rice Blvd., the cardinals that led that year’s brood to the feeder were more gentle. Parents and a light brown youngster lined up on the electric wire leading to the house. I really thought the little one was going spin upside down. Parents edged closer and finally nudged him into space. At the same time they took places on each side and guided him to land on the deck. Somehow they managed to chase him up toward the bird feeder and then back to the electric wire. This was a process they repeated until he could map the circuit on his own. Number three example starts with a large nest in the oak tree at the end if the Swift driveway. It was built several years ago by a pair of black crown night herons. They are migratory. We know when they return because the street has a patch of white droppings to mark the location of the nest. The sequence goes from only an adult who comes and goes, to as many as three fuzzy heads peeking over edge to finally the family of four lined up on the limb. At some magic moment, we have three long legged adolescents exploring our yard. I’ve never seen them fly down or return to the nest. One day they are all gone.
I just learned this week that having an empty nest is important for the adults. This is the season of the year they molt, getting rid of flight feathers that show the wear of summer activity. You may find the single tail feather in the grass during this time. I thought of fledglings and molting with the beginning of school yet again. I heard 7:45 chatter as parents walked children down the two blocks to Roberts, our neighborhood school. For some of you, it was not small hands to hold; it was handing over a plane ticket to a college town and independence you weren’t sure you or they were ready to receive. As life has circled, we all have been in one place or another, either taking a step onward or regrouping to be a part of what is next.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.
Ecclesiastes 3:1
Let Me Tell Ya 