Nice and Full

Some time back I relayed the story how my Dad built a birdhouse for Hannah. Hannah then painted it. At her direction, I then placed it in our yard where no birds moved in. Later, I moved the birdhouse to a different location and we waited. If you wish, you can read the details of that story here.

I spent much of this past spring and into the summer concerned that the location we moved the birdhouse to was not the most ideal place. It was in our front yard placed between two tall oak trees that stand beside each other separated by about four feet. Hannah liked the idea of the birdhouse standing between the two trees so I planted the house there even though I was a bit wary of the constant squirrel traffic and the close proximity of our house and the street. Once the house was settled, we would check it every few days. We would unhook the lock then open the lid so we could peer down into an empty home. The only thing the house seemed to attract was a place where wasps wanted to live as I swatted away at least three separate small nests from the inside of the lid.

One day I had worked in the yard. By this time, it was summer so the heat had drained me on this day. I rested on our porch cooling off before going inside our house. I watched a few cars drive up and down our street. I soaked in a breeze or two that drifted by through the muggy air. Mostly, I studied that birdhouse. I was fairly confident that the time for any bird to make the birdhouse it’s own for the season had passed. I told myself I should move it to a location less busy. For some reason though I did not follow through that day or in the days that followed.

A couple of days later though I looked into the yard thinking I had seen an optical illusion. It appeared to me that a bird had stuck it’s head out from the hole in the house. I watched for a short time before noticing a blue bird darting around the front yard trees. I made my way outside where I cautiously approached the birdhouse to peek inside. There, I found a small empty nest.

I rushed into the house to find Hannah then I brought her outside. I held her so she could peer inside as she was amazed and excited at the new find. Jennifer joined us as well. A new excitement surrounded the three of us as we had new feathered neighbors.

Hannah wanted to look into the birdhouse often. I told her though that we needed to not check every day. We didn’t want to be those neighbors who were always in somebody’s business. She accepted this although we would sneak a peek more often than we should have.

One day I realized I hadn’t checked the birdhouse in a few days. I made my way to the house and opened the lid. When I looked inside I discovered five small blue eggs. I closed and latched the lid then went to locate Hannah.

We approached the birdhouse. I told her I wanted her to see something but I did not give her any further details. I unlatched the lid, lifted her high and tried to watch her face as she discovered the eggs inside. She counted them and commented on their color. She then ran to tell her mom. A few days later, we visited her grandparents where she was able to tell the grandfather who built her birdhouse about the nest now built there in our yard. He tipped off Hannah that his birdhouse, sitting on a small rise where a walnut tree once stood, had eggs in it at that moment, so we took a gander at that as well.

Back home, Hannah wanted to look at the nest every day. I told her we should probably not check it every day. I reasoned that the mother bird needed time to hatch the eggs without interference from us. Still, we looked in on them from time to time just to check their progress. In some way, it made me recall my favorite episode of The Andy Griffith Show ever. It’s called “Opie the Birdman”. In the episode, Opie kills a mother bird with his slingshot leaving baby birds without their mother. When Andy discovers what Opie has done he makes him take care of the baby birds which Opie does capably. Later, Andy leads Opie to consider what should happen with the baby birds helping Opie to think about what the mother bird would do as the baby birds grew. Opie realizes the mother would want the baby birds to fly free, so he takes each bird from the cage where he cared for them, holds open his hand allowing each bird to fly away. Opie comes to understand those moments with those baby birds were over because once they knew they could fly they would not return to a cage. So, while I enjoyed the excitement Hannah felt from this new experience I also realized another day would come soon where those eggs would hatch and eventually baby birds would grow and fly away.

We watched the birdhouse every other day or so. One day I looked inside. I immediately left looking for Hannah. Without telling her anything, I held her up where she looked inside. Her eyes saw what my eyes had seen earlier, three baby birds with their mouths wide open. We would peer inside from time to time watching the baby birds grow. I watched the yard a bit more intently to make sure neighborhood cats and those pesky squirrels weren’t sniffing around the yard too much. Once I watched the mother bird dive bomb a squirrel as it tried to climb up one of the oak trees near the birdhouse. I knew then the baby birds, and their mother, would be okay.

Life gets busy and time moves on quicker than we often recognize. One evening, I realized I hadn’t checked on the birdhouse in a few days. I walked to the spot between the two oaks where it rests. I unlatched the hook, opened the lid and looked inside. The baby birds were gone.

On The Andy Griffith Show when Opie releases the birds, they fly into the trees. Opie looks at the cage then mentions how empty it looks. Andy, who has watched his son release each bird, agrees with Opie then as he looks up at a nearby tree comments how nice and full the trees seem as the birds sing. Yes, this scene ran through my head as I made my way to locate Hannah after my discovery. Real life though is seldom scripted like a TV show, no matter how hard TV producers and executives try.

Again, without telling her anything, Hannah and I made our way to the birdhouse. I unlatched the lock then held her up to look inside. She was silent for a few seconds before she said, “They’re gone.”

“Yes, they’ve grown up and flown away.”

I sat Hannah down on her feet then latched the house lock. We started to walk away. For some reason, Hannah took my hand, not unusual but something I was not expecting, she then said, “I wasn’t ready for them to go.”

Even though we kept walking I knew deep, deep inside I had been knocked for a loop by her admission. I did not anticipate her response which by this time included a few tears.

Struggling for what to say I asked Hannah to consider how crowded that birdhouse would become as the birds grew bigger and how they would look silly sitting on top of each other. She faintly laughed at my feeble answer leaving room for more questions.

“Why did they leave? Will they be okay? Can they fly?”

“They grew up. When they get big enough they fly away and go out on their own. You know, one day you’ll grow up and you’ll leave me and Mom here.”

This wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. “I don’t want to leave you and Mommie,” she said between sobs.

“Baby, that’s a long, long time from now. Don’t worry about that, ok? Just always know Mom and I love you.”

She and I sat on our front steps in the approaching dusk of a July evening. My little girl, six summers old at that moment, tanned by the sun with a heart tendered by God, sat in my lap. I brushed her blonde hair back from her face, wondering how she would digest learning about this part of the cycle of life. What would she take from these moments? I held her close, disappointed that I fumbled through finding the just-right answer to soothe her concerns yet knowing one day it will be me saying to her, “I’m not ready for you to go.” We sat in the silence a little longer. I considered how life with the ones you love is often messy, uneven, and, sometimes, difficult, but how even those times are still special in their own way.

Eventually, we would go back into the house so we could tell Mom how the baby birds had left the birdhouse. Until then, we sat on the steps in the quiet. Finally, that silence lifted when I heard baby blue birds, new to flight, fluttering their wings around the trees making me consider how life, this life, sure is nice and full.