The Leaving.

The blue tits nesting in the box behind my kitchen have reached the fledging stage. Every so often today I would see a tiny juvenile head appear in the opening and look out, searching for signs of mama and papa bearing food. And when mama and papa did appear they would set about tempting the kiddies with some tasty morsel hanging from their beaks. They would perch on the nearby hedge or even fly up to the box itself, but then they would fly away again. The message was obvious enough:

Time to widen your world, little ones. Time to come out into the big one. Follow us and we’ll show you how to survive.

At the time of writing none of the babies has yet succumbed to the pressure, and when they do I half hope I won’t witness the event. I did witness it one year and it was an anxious time. I watched as each juvenile took the big leap and flew to join the parents in the hedge. I held my breath as each new life flew its first four feet of avian freedom, fearful that one of them might not make it and fall to the ground. For what would I do then? I’ve heard it said that parent birds will continue to feed those that fall, but what about the cats?

But it will be dark in little more than an hour so maybe it’s better that the young ones have another night in what has been the only home they’ve known so far. And maybe they’ll leave early in the morning before my own stirring. I think I’d prefer it that way.

And I’m thinking of the Lady B and her own new life. I’m wondering how well she will fare at teaching her own offspring to survive, because new parents have to learn the ropes too. And we take a lot longer to perform our human duty because our lives are so much more complicated than those of birds. If ever I can be of service, my lady…