Pre-Ramble: Lots of flapping and preening in the nest today as the Chiplets pull downy fuzz out of their coat by the beak-full to make way for the more streamlined, aerodynamic feathers below. Little did I know, as I watched the activity, that these fledgling feathered wings would be soon called to action.

So, earlier in the week, I had witnessed Mother Chipping Sparrow swoop onto the scene with a fresh, plump, bright green caterpillar dangling from her beak. From what I could see from my viewing bunker, she had chopped it up and distributed it evenly among the clamoring kids. Smart bird. We moms have all had to contend with the sibling rivalry ruckus that comes from the inevitable inequity of food portions … “No fair! Her piece of caterpillar is bigger than mine … ” blah, blah …

Since then, I have come across these bright green caterpillars everywhere…  I’m walking the dog — there’s a caterpillar… I’m on a run – there’s a caterpillar… I’m out in the garden — there’s a caterpillar. And, rather than pass up a perfectly good caterpillar, I’ve been coaxing them onto sticks and dragging them up onto the porch. (I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone; the fact that I’ve set up orange traffic cones across the nesting zone to minimize disruption has generated more than enough snickering among my heartless, unsentimental family and friends.) 

I thought about delivering the caterpillar hot dish directly into the little outstretched beaks, but then thought the better of it. Would I want a complete stranger walking up to the crib and shoving food into my baby’s mouth? Something they had picked up off the street, no less? And what is the shelf life on these insects? I’d hate to be giving the Chiplets an expired caterpillar. So, I’d carefully lay the bugs-on-a-stick on the porch near the nest and slink away. They were always gone the next time I looked out there.

We knew it was going to happen.  Just after the above photo was taken (if you look closely, you can make out three little bird faces … one is looking right at you). (And, yes, there were four eggs in the nest … I don’t know what happened to the fourth bird, and I don’t want to talk about it.) As I made my way back inside, a frenzy of chirping broke out, and before I could turn to see what the commotion was all about, the nest was empty.

That’s the way it’s supposed to be. We’ve known since day one, that sooner or later the little birds were going to be ready to take that leap of faith, or predestination, or whatever it is that makes a creature fling itself beak-first into the future. Any other outcome would have been sad, tragic even. So, why is there still such an empty place where the energy around the nest used to be?

I’m sure the fact that our oldest child has gone to college and the youngest one is poised on the edge of our proverbial nest has something to do with it. It somehow doesn’t seem fair that in raising a child, the outcome that you hope for, that you work a significant part of your life for, exposes you to a deeply complex range of emotions, each of which resonates with a twang somewhere in your heart. It’s like suffering a loss and receiving a great gift all at once.

The Take-Away: Enjoy the moment and take things as they come. Just when you think things are the way they are, new things happen — bird nests pop up in bushes, kids move on to the next exciting phase of their lives, a twist of circumstances presents opportunities to try new things in the world. Seems like our best bet is to experience the things that come our way to the fullest extent of our interest, and be ready to move into whatever comes next. 

Sure, the Chiplets are gone. It’ll be an adjustment… (…what will I do with all that extra time?)  The good news is we can use the front door again, and I can finally sweep up all those dead pine needles and restock the Christmas planters. My hope is that the young birds will learn to find the bright green caterpillars on their own, perfect their flying skills, and send me a Tweet once in a while.