The Nest

I am fortunate in where I live to have property that borders a large wooded area.  To call it a forest might be a bit dramatic, perhaps the name Hundred Acre Wood better suits it.  It is an area green, filled with trees and home to all sorts of critters that occasionally make themselves part of my life.  The other day I smelled a horrid smell on my back deck.  Further investigation of the nasal sort lead me to a planter box where I discovered the smashed body of a bird.  I don't know what smashed it but it was beyond redemption and almost beyond recognition.  I scooped up the remains and noticed that nestled not far away was another bird.  It was youthful and I quickly determined it was a baby.  I left it alone and later in the day noticed the mother tending to it.  She would cuddle up beside the bird before venturing out for foraging runs.  A few days later I looked out and saw the baby walking alone along the deck railing.  I was concerned at first but soon decided it must be its final day.  Sure enough, at some point the mother returned and since I could find no trace of the bird on the ground below, must have spread its wings and taken flight.  Like a child leaving home they vanished into the wood probably never to return.

Like all parents I know one day my son will spread his wings.  I know he will take flight and soar above the life I have provided.  I wonder if when an animal leaves it remembers its parents as we hope our children will do. 

A bit further down a small hill, still in my back yard, there is a small pond with a waterfall.  An unknown number of gold fish and koi circle in their home.  There are crates for them to hide under and rocks to find food.  There is a  net stretched overhead to protect them from the herons circling the sky above.  The fish live a relatively secure life protected from the threats that could take their lives.  However, despite this protection, threats still lurk.  Recently a three foot long snake I named Sylvester found a way in and chose to make the little pond his home.  He nestled under the waterfall and enjoyed a cool bath during the mid-day sun.  He also lived secure knowing a meal of tasty fish was but a long stretch away.

While seemingly safe and secure in their home, Sylvester was quick to remind that even a pond or a nest for that matter is no guarantee of security.  I made a few attempts to catch Sylvester, but each ended with his quick escape only to return again another day.  One afternoon I looked out on the pond and noticed Sylvester on top of the net.  He wasn't moving.  I grabbed my net ready to face my foe.  I ran down only to find Sylvester's body tightly wrapped by the plastic netting.  I called my son Noah and we discussed his situation.  We knew if we left him, in a few hours he would die.  Suddenly hunting the hunter no longer felt a challenge.  Together we pushed as much of him into a hand net as possible and cut him free of the plastic netting.  Holding his head and his body we carefully cut the netting around him slowly strangling his skin.  With the snake free we carried Sylvester into the woods and released him.  He slithered slowly away and vanished under a carpet of leaves.  Unlike the fish in their controlled seemingly safe world, Sylvester left for a more unpredictable world but one of freedom.

As a child grows older a parent has spent so many years doing their best to protect them it is difficult to watch them leave.  When they walk out the door the net vanishes and is replaced only by the knowledge that you are a shadow in the back ground.  You can be there if the light is illuminated but even in the darkness they can see without you.  Some parents always want to leave the light on but even the stoutest of the children will want the light out from time to time, allowing them to sleep.

Beyond the line of my property is a world beyond my control.  Deer wander by, coyotes move through.  Owls stalk the night and turtles bathe in a small creek.  It is a world that while wild, I don't want to control.  I like knowing it is there, that there is something beautiful, something wild just beyond my reach.  I know however when I want, I can put on my boots and long pants and wander through its briers and hidden dangers.  When my feet are cold and my hands are muddy I look back and know my house is not far away.  I can always return to the wild another day.  As my son approaches his thirteenth year of life, I hope he will always know his father is in the shadows and there is a house on hill always within his reach.