Little Birds and Thunderstorms

Well, I totally failed as a Bird Doulah today. After a neighbor rescued a nest of baby sparrows that fell to the ground and placed it in our hedge by the front porch, I assumed the role, uncertified but willing, of doulah to this little family of sparrows. 

Remarkably the parents found the new location and resumed their parenting roles of non-stop feeding. For four days I have chased away the neighbor's hungry-eyed cat, and other helpful things so the sparrow parents could tend their nest of three adorable babies.

Three Baby Sparrows. Hungry. Loud!

This morning I saw on the weather forecast that we were supposed to get severe thunderstorms. That little nest was perched precariously, almost vertical as the babies were getting bigger and moving around. I decided maybe if I put up an umbrella of sorts to protect the nest, the three babies might survive a downpour.

I got the lid off a plastic bin (12" x 18") in the garage. I planned to lay it carefully over the top of the hedge, just above the nest. Gingerly I walked up to the nest. The parents both chattered wildly at me, and when I reached out to lay the roof on the top of the hedge.....vvvrrrooommm!!!!! Two little fledglings launched. Of course chaos ensued. The parents came after me and I ran for the house with momma sparrow dive-bombing me as the bird chatter-screaming rose to a fevered pitch in the front yard. 

The two fledglings didn't fly far. As soon as they hit the ground they started hop-flying. One almost made it the thirty feet to the street. I watched from the porch as the momma steered the baby back to the closest little bush under the Bradford Pear tree. Soon the second baby was in the same bush. The third little guy had stayed in the nest. Maybe he was the runt of the litter.

The storms came soon after that. I got a robo-phone call from Greg Fishell, our local weatherman, warning me to take cover as severe thunderstorms were in our area. I decided the birds would have to be in God's hands, and went inside. 

Feeders for the birds in my yard

After the downpour I checked the nest and the little bird that had stayed there was dead. He was stretched out, on his back, looking so tiny, cold, and lifeless. The mother sparrow sat on a branch about fifteen feet away singing a mournful song. I felt sick to my stomach, as I wiped away tears for that little bird and the bereaved mother nearby.

I checked around the little bush out front. The other two sparrows were no where to be found. Heartsick. Failure. Stupid. How did I get involved in the lives of these little birds anyway? Will those bird parents in the nearby trees ever forgive me? Would the baby birds all have lived if they had been in the nest and I had not interfered? Maybe the two are in the nearby trees and I just haven't seen them.

The parent birds remained in the trees all evening--agitated, yet going to the feeder and carrying on with what was left of their lives. Their fortitude amazed me.

Comforting words from Matthew 10 kept coming to mind today, 

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.  But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."

Who would want to believe in a God that was aloof to the plight of His own creation, even the smallest of the small, an obscure baby sparrow? God's concern for the smallest only makes Him bigger, greater, and infinitely loving. 

A childhood song echoes in the recesses of my heart this evening with its lilting, sing-song refrain:

God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets His tender view;

If God so loves the little birds, I know He loves me too.

He loves me too, He loves me too, I know He loves me too. 

If God so loves the little birds, I know He loves me too. 

The nest was at the end of the porch in that hedge.

I offer composer Eric Whitacre's delightful "Little Birds" as a closure for the loose ends of my bird story. It's sung in Spanish, as is the original poem by Octavio Paz, but you can still get a wonderful sense of the bird world in this piece. The last line translates as, 

"Even if the bird is invisible, let us see the color of his song."

A description of "Little Birds"

Here's a great short summary of what to do if you find a nest on the ground.