I just got attacked by a flock of birds. Or maybe they got attacked by me. I’m not totally sure. Here’s what happened a couple of weeks ago.
I notice a lovely pair of robins spending their days in our yard. Every morning I walk out there and say hello. They rotate their positions from high trees to fence posts and grape vines. I figure there must be a nest nearby, but I can’t tell where. I marvel at their dedication, their constant work, and how their lives are entirely centred upon the feeding and safety of their young.
Inevitably I discover the nest in our honeysuckle. The little ones are stuffed in there like a balloon about to burst. I know they’re getting ready to try their wings out. The kids aren’t allowed to check it out, but at a weak moment I take Isaac on a little stool and tell him not to touch anything or make any sounds. If we move one branch and look far towards the back … kapow!
Seven birds swarm out of the honeysuckle and into our faces. I scream. Isaac screams. I scream again. The mama and papa fly to nearby trees while the fledglings scatter about in bushes and around the yard, trying their wings out. I call for Scott to help, not knowing what to do.
He gets some gloves and gently scoops one baby bird out of a bush and places it back in the honeysuckle. I get one myself, and the one Scott has placed fledges back out. It starts to make its way towards the wire fencing of our neighbour’s yard. Scott isn’t sure what to do. He doesn’t want to hop the fence but knows that they have a dog, Axle, that will certainly eat the bird. So Scott does it, he jumps over and gets the baby just as Axle is making his way towards them.
Meanwhile, two more rescued birds jump out of the honeysuckle and scatter behind the hot tub. Then I hear Chesterton, our pup, come running out of the house in a mad dash, and I realize that he could eat a bird! I holler at Nicolas to get him back inside, when suddenly I hear more commotion in the trees: two stellar jays and a crow. It’s like that scene in The Lord of the Rings when Théoden thinks they’ve won the war, and then the evil elephants appear. Anyways.
I never knew that stellar jays eat baby birds, but they do. They appear out of nowhere, responding to the parent birds’ constant chirping. So the robins are involved in this new onslaught, fighting the predators to divert them out of our yard. It’s like a horror movie. Ka-kaw! Ka-kaw!
Now, for any reader who’s concerned that we’ve been gathering the babies at all, please know we are doing what we think best in a panic moment. Websites confirm that you should leave fledglings to their parents’ care unless there is immediate danger. Two dogs, stellar jays, and a hellish crow count as immediate danger in my eyes. Regardless, the babies are gathered and safe in the honeysuckle, all except for one who refuses to give up his freedom. It’s quite the sight to watch the parents hop along beside him in the yard, giving some independence but never losing sight of him.
When the horror ends, and I am once again free to watch the birds from the window as they resume their parenting and homemaking, I am struck by the connection this has with a column I wrote a few weeks ago.
“‘Dear God, let not one of these little chicks fall from the nest of your hands’ is my desperate and usual prayer.”
The reality of the nature of the world is confirmed. There are predators at every corner looking to corrupt and destroy our innocent young. Some are blatant predators: dealers and the violent and perverted. Others not so blatant: movies, video games, idealistic socialist teachers. Our job as parents is one of sacrifice, to vigilantly safeguard our children’s hearts, bodies, and souls until they are able to fly on their own.
But I would say that while we protect them and teach them to protect themselves, we must not miss the beauty that surrounds them in the wildness of life. There are jays and crows and hungry wild dogs. But we also see honeysuckle, grape vines, butterflies, and the warmth of the sun. To bring our children with us on the journey to Beauty and Freedom means facing the threat with hope and an eye for the good.
