This morning a baby bird fell out of its nest just outside the window that is near my desk. I watched it tumble from the dense pillow of twigs and leaves tucked into the eaves under the deck, falling a distance of 12 feet to the cement patio below.
The mother bird dashed to the baby’s side, hopping in a circle around him. After a few stunned moments, the fledgling righted himself and faced her. She screeched at him, wings extended, beak thrust forward. I knew what she was saying: “Why did you sit so close to the edge? What were you doing? Wrestling with your brother? Didn’t I tell you…?”
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