Early Tuesday morning I heard a soft thump on our open window.  Even before getting out of bed to look, I knew a bird had flown into the reflective glass.  It happens often.  Sometimes it is the demise of the little creature; other times they can shake off the shock and fly on.  A tiny fledgling wren was crumpled in the river rock by the sedum.  He had just left the nest in the wren house that was hanging from a maple branch about fifteen feet from our bedroom window.  In a few minutes, he scurried under the hosta plant for cover–on his own in the big world.  The morning mayhem had already begun with the parent wrens working hard to feed their hungry brood–a noisy time!  Except this morning was different–it was a good day to fly!

So instead of bringing food for the clamorous, hungry babies, the mama and papa wren flew to the house ‘talking’ encouragement to their young ones, then flying away again.

Mama wren would fly to the house, then to the roof, then to branches above the house, all the while chattering to her young ones.  The baby at the opening was making just as much noise–constantly wondering why he wasn’t getting fed as usual.

After more than two hours of this flying-day frenzy, I saw the mama bring food to the baby.  Some food and rest were in store after all that hard work.  They would try again another time.

At noon that day, I heard our black lab burst from inside the house onto the screened-in porch with an urgent bark–the kind that means something is out there!  I looked out the back window and saw turkeys flying and running from the loud, startling threat.  One adult sentry of the posse of turkeys calmly surveyed the scene, then walked into the woods, while the others looked down from their secure perches in the oak trees.

With the dog safely contained in the house and no longer barking, the turkeys cautiously left their perches, floating down to the ground like tiny brown parachutes.

Baby flyer training for the wrens began again early the next morning.  The chatter was loud and nonstop.  The fledgling was much more determined due to hunger or instinct or increased confidence.  Though it took many tries and much prompting from mama wren, baby number two soon took the leap!

Next flyer on deck!

This time mama wren brought some enticement but flew away without feeding it to the baby.

‘Dang!  I guess I’ll have to get out of here to get that tasty morsel of food.’

Baby wren number four followed suit and cautiously dropped to the ‘porch’ of the house.

‘Your turn.  If I can do it, you can do it, too!’

‘Where’d she go?’

And finally, mama wren flew to the branch above the house, and the last baby followed her into the maple canopy.

Empty nest.  Empty house.  Quiet.

 

Sometimes with all the best intentions and timing and encouragement, we try new things but don’t succeed.  We rest and re-group and try again.  Sometimes, like the turkeys, we are forced to fly.  Scary things happen, and we fly to save our lives.  Hunger for a better life, frustration with the status quo, enticements that feed our body and soul, encouragement from others who have gone before us, and the positive peer pressure that makes us take the leap combine with our innate cycle of change and development to make it a good day to fly.