Empty Nest

Yesterday we noticed that the baby birds were so crowded in the nest that they were leaning dangerously over the edge. You may recall that in June, a mother bird called a Phoebe built a nest on the ceiling fan on our front porch.

Around noon, John snapped these pictures. We realized that the biggest one, the ‘bruiser bird’, seemed to have already flown away, but the parents were still flying back and forth to feed the others. I said to John, “They’re like kids who won’t move out of the house!” The nest was in tatters. My porch floor is covered in…well, you know.

Then at 5 p.m, John let Shadow and Pierre out for their playtime. Pierre has been visiting the birds, chirping and meowing back at them, since they were hatched. He can’t get up there. He sits under the nest and chortles at the birds. They squeak back.

Pierre raced over…and suddenly the babies FLEW!

They raced in all directions, flying this way and that, bouncing into the rain gutters, up and over the roof, mother and father bird chirping after them.

And a very disappointed kitty sat on the porch, staring up at an empty nest.

The babies were still flying around the house last night. One flew into the siding but was fine – he or she flapped up and over and onto the roof. This morning, I saw three sitting on the garage roof. They are using the house as a launch pad, taking short flights up and about and then coming back to the safety of the roof. I am relieved to see all of them flying on strong, (fairly) sure wings.

It’s so funny how what really happens is different from the perception of what “should” happen. I imagined that the day the babies flew, we would watch them tentatively hop to the edge of the nest, give a few test flaps of their wings, and fly a few feet. This was what I thought “should” happen.

Little did I know that Uncle Pierre would be the ones to teach the birds how to fly!