Hi, let’s just be ostriches and bury our heads, not even acknowledge how little I have blogged. We will pretend that this break never happened. We will pretend that I was in Provence, wining and dining for months on end. We will pretend that I was hiking the Appalachian Trail for weeks and weeks, raising money to support the mental health of parents of tweens (it’s just so sad what they have to go through!) We will pretend that it was I who single handedly discovered the lost Franklin shipwreck, diving with dogged determination, not quitting until I found it. We will pretend that I did not lose my effing my mind and add a puppy to my calm, serence life that includes 5 swim practises week, 5 tae kwon do classes a week, a full time job, a side business and a full on Homeland addiction.
Good. So cleaning out my phone tonight I realized I took some photos with the intent to blog and educate the world. So here I go. Here is my “Why Mother Nature, Whyyyyyyyyy!!!!!” story.
Grace and I were out for a run a few weeks ago (yup, that there sentence is meant to make you feel inadequate as a parent. What? You DON’T run with your child on a regular basis? Pffft, you probably feed them nitrates too. You are a horrible person). We were going at a pretty steady clip when Grace screeched to a stop. After I yelled at her to stop for looking for excuses to stop running (uh, yeah, running with your daughter has some stresses) she drew my attention to this:
It’s a teeny tiny bird on the sidewalk! In distress! Well, we had to do something about this. I went into full on Geenpeace-on-a-boat-saving-whales-mode (but really Oakville-mom-running-on-suburban-sidewalk-wearing-lululemon-saving-baby-bird-mode but shhhh, I have pictures in my head that make me happy about myself). Anyhoooo I started gathering materials necessary to get the baby bird back to its nest without actually touching it because we all know the momma bird would reject it she got wind of human contact. That was a very long sentence, sorry. Do you know how hard it is to gather materials like MacGyver in suburbia? It’s hard – people keep METICULOUS lawns here. Grace stopped my frantic foraging with an “ew, what’s THAT” (said in a voice only a twelve year can tap into). Upon closer inspection indeed the baby bird looked a little off. With my
science theatre background I immediately concluded that the baby bird was so new that the egg shell had not completely fallen off of it – awwww so cute. Grace who is perhaps more destined for a career in science than I, came to a different conclusion. According to her, it looked more like a growth, a tumor. Uh huh. That did make a bit more sense than my stubborn sticking egg shell theory. Well, still gotta get that baby bird back to momma bird, so I kept looking for solutions to get it up to the nest and Grace pitched in (and an image of the baby Jesus appeared on my toast – as if she helped!) Then it slowly dawned on me, the baby bird was probably shoved by it’s momma out of the nest because of its tumor and was not deemed worthy of the nest. That momma bird would be damned pissed off if I insisted on putting her baby back in the nest. It was kind of a profound moment, explaining to Grace survival of the fittest theories, showing off some On the Origin of Species knowledge I just happen to have (she wasn’t overly impressed) and how nature just takes care of these things.I chose to ignore her arguments to push her little sister from our brick nest because her fatal flaw is that she bugs her.
We left that little baby bird on the sidewalk and I felt just awful about it. I warned every pedestrian about the ailing little bird they would encounter and horrified Grace with my familiarity with every stranger encountered.
When we got home I told Jo all about it, showed him the slideshow and video footage I took (I’ll spare you). Then I reflected on how grateful I was that I didn’t have Howie (the dog) with me. He would have eaten it and that would have been gross.