Before I had time to fully mourn the difficulty I was having locating a ladder, the Nest of Destiny situation resolved itself.
With a little help from Devon.
The first I knew of anything, there arose a commotion in the entryway. Above the hubbub, Devon could be clearly heard saying, “Hey, everyone! Look at the baby bird!”
It took a moment to coax the blood back into my brain enough to command my frozen fingers to set down the dishes I was washing and intervene, thoughts of orange boxes dancing in my head.
Fixing him with
a steely gaze, I asked, “How did it get out of the nest?” Butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth.
Wide eyed, “It just fell.”
Is anyone but me already suspicious at this point? Are you kidding – anyone who knows Devon was probably already suspicious at the commotion part, and most definitely by the time they heard that he was holding a bird of any sort. It also didn’t take his amazing auntie long to figure out that there might be some connection between this event, and the oddly casual questions he had been asking a short time before about where he might possibly be some grubs to be found, oh for no particular reason, just to feed the birds.
A few minutes later the rest of the story emerged, almost voluntarily. “When I climbed up to look in, it got scared and tried to fly away.”
I had had no idea what type of birds were in the nest, since after all, the only thing I could see was the tip of several small beaks. I assumed they were robins. The gargoylian lump of feathers and fuzz clinging desperately to Devon’s hand was most definitely not a robin. It wasn’t a crow, either, though I could see why Devon thought it was.
The little grackle or starling (I suspect, but have not verified), had most of its big birdie feathers, except for some down along its back, and two large secretary bird tufts sticking out the side of its head. The beak turned out to be quite large and lumpy. Rather an ungainly honker for such a small bird.
Taking time only to grab my camera, my pajamas and I followed Devon outside to try and put it back. As soon as we got close to the bushes, the wee thing tried to fly back.
Unlike Buzz Lightyear, the attempt to fly was more like falling…without style.
Turns out it could run pretty fast, so it was a good ten minutes later before the equivalent of two birds in the bush was ready to make its ascent to the Nest of Destiny.
In the shortest part of the whole drama, it took only a minute for Devon to scramble back up and take the bird from my hand
(you didn’t really think I would let it go back without holding it myself, did you?), and hold it close enough to hop back into its cozy little home.
The shrill, nonstop cries of both distraught parents ceased immediately. If I was a bird, I wouldn’t have stopped shrieking till Devon was in the house, personally. And just in case Devon is reading this, the Nest of Destiny had better not be disturbed again, Buster!!!!
Until the next adventure,
PS I give up trying to fix all the format glitches. I fix one, and two more pop up. At least all the words seem to be together again, I hope.