I had actually been looking forward to this post until
today. For weeks we have been watching Sun Birds staking out our deck and
building a nest. There was much excitement when the mummy bird moved in
permanently. We would watch her for ages and laugh as the blue chested daddy
bird preened himself while looking at our windows or chattered to the ‘other
bird’ in the toy toaster (it’s our old chrome toaster).
We watched closely over the weeks and were over the moon
when we noticed the mummy bird bringing insects to the nest in her beak. Big
learned so much about how to tell the mummy and daddy birds apart, why it’s
important for the mummy bird to sit in the nest, how to be still and quiet so
we don’t scare the mummy bird away. We loved their trilling song that sounded
throughout the day.
Because the nest is above our play area, the mummy bird
actually became quite used to our presence and would stick her head out of the
nest and peer at us as though we were just a mild annoyance.
But then…
Last night we noticed the mummy bird’s absence as we ate
dinner. David tried to tell Big that it was because the baby bird had flown
away. We couldn’t hear the baby cheeping and hoped this was the answer.
But we came home from playgroup this morning and I could see
the baby’s head peeping out of the nest. I called Bel over excitedly, noticing the
flies too late. The mopping that I needed to do was temporarily forgotten as I
held my distraught little girl and tried to answer her questions.
She cried so hard. I cried because I couldn’t take away her
pain. I had been so fearful of this happening. But the questions were so hard.
It started with her standard, “Why?” But she didn’t want to accept my answers.
I told her the baby must have been sick. “But they are not apposed [sic] to get
sick.” I then tried to tell her that everyone dies at some point. “Why?” So we
can go to heaven. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. Will you die? And
Daddy? Willow?”
My heart broke over and over as I tried to make her understand.
She has calmed down, but every now and then she still asks
why. “I don’t like it when baby birds die. If the mummy bird gives the baby
lots and lots of kisses, then the baby bird will be happy.” (She saw the mummy
bird trying to pull the baby out of the nest. I told her she was kissing the
baby.)
I called David to give him the heads up. We are going to
take the nest down, wrap it in fabric and bury it when he comes home for lunch.
I’m hoping a small ritual will give her some closure.
All she wants to know right now is why it died and if the
baby bird is happy.
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