Baby Bird

“Jeremy, honey, stay inside the fence. I’ll be right out.”

“'kay!” Four-year-old Jeremy answered his mom as he examined the baby bird that lay on the ground next to the old cedar tree in the front yard. He looked up into the tangled branches of the tree, but couldn’t see the nest.

Translucent skin covered the tiny bird’s bulging eyes. He watched it in rapt wonderment, as its large beak opened and closed.

It squeaked.

“You hungry baby bird?”

He sat next to it and waited, hoping the momma bird would appear in the branches above.

The tiny bird continued to squeak. He remembered seeing a television show about baby birds. They made a lot of noise and eventually the mother returned to the nest and fed them.

“I’ll go find you some food.”

He walked around until he spied a Granddaddy Long-Legs in the grass. He raced after it, picked it up by one leg and carried it to the baby bird.

“You want a Granddaddy Long-Legs?” he asked, as he dangled the spider above the bird’s open beak and dropped it. The spider vibrated and fell to the ground. It crawled away. The tiny bird cried out again.

Jeremy stood and looked around the yard. A robin landed nearby, cocked its head and pulled a worm from the ground. It flew away with its dinner.

Sometimes grandpa took him fishing. He remembered helping put the wiggling worms on the hook. Grandpa didn’t have a beak; he used a spade to dig for worms.

He hurried to the garage and found the little spade his mom used to plant flowers.

The soft, black dirt in the flower bed was perfect for digging and soon lay in little mounds all around the spring flowers. His mom had taught him the names, tulips, crocus and daffodils.

A little brown snake sidled by and Jeremy stopped digging to watch its passing. “Hello little brown snake.”

Mom said they were good to have in the garden. He liked their black eyes and the way their little pink tongues flicked about, as if tasting the warm air. It continued on past and he went back to digging.

As he scooped rich black soil from one of the holes, he came across a squishy white grub. Mom didn’t like them in her garden.

It looked like a good meal for a baby bird.

He held the grub over its beak and realized it was much too large to fit in the bird’s mouth. He dropped it on the ground and ran back to the hole.

As he excavated the flowerbed, the nearby yellow daffodils leaned and fell. With great fascination, he inspected the white bulbs that were part of their roots. They reminded him of the little onions his mom sometimes cut up and put in the dinner salad.

He grabbed one of the bulbs and pulled it from the dirt, but all the bulbs stuck together. Soon, he held all of the flowers in his hands. He shook the dirt free and returned to the baby bird.

“Would you like some flowers?”

Using his fingernail, he scraped a tiny piece off one of the bulbs and dropped it into the bird’s open beak. The bird opened and closed its beak repeatedly, but the piece of bulb remained, nestled inside its pink mouth.

With great care, he tore a yellow petal into tiny pieces and placed a few in the bird’s mouth. The beak opened and closed, but the bird did not eat.

He remembered the robin he had seen earlier with the worm. With renewed determination, he ran back to the flower bed and dug, this time concentrating on finding an earthworm.

The back door opened and his mom yelled, “Jeremy, come inside!”

The urgent tone in her voice frightened him. He looked at the flower bed and realized he had dug up all of her daffodils. He headed for the flowers lying on the ground next to the baby bird, hoping to put them back before she discovered them missing.

The door opened again.

“Jeremy, I need you to come inside, right now!”

Driven by her urgent tone, he changed directions and ran inside the house.

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I wanted to feed the baby bird.”

“Jeremy, I need to tell you something.” She squatted in front of him and took his hands in hers.

“What is it?” he asked as he noticed the tears in her eyes. Seeing her like this worried him and tears welled up in his eyes.

“You know where Daddy’s been for the last two years?” she asked.

He nodded. “Iraq.”

“Yes, honey, that’s right. He’s been in Iraq.” She covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’ll put the flowers back,” he said.

“Honey, forget about the flowers,” she said as she stroked his hair. “Daddy’s not in Iraq.”

He tried to imagine where his daddy might be then thought about the baby bird. Sometimes, Mommy read e-mails to him that Daddy wrote from Iraq.

He really wanted to ask Mommy to write Daddy and ask what they should feed the baby bird. He hoped she knew where he was.

Jeremy looked at her and asked, “Where is Daddy?”

She smiled through the tears. “He’s right here, baby.”

Jeremy looked over her shoulder as his dad stepped from the hall and stretched out his arms to him

He ran and jumped into his arms. “How’s my little man?”

“Good,” Jeremy said. “I found a baby bird, but it won’t eat.”

His dad hugged him so tight, and after a long silence, he smiled and said, “Let’s go have a look.”

Outside, they searched until they found the bird nest in the cedar tree. Jeremy’s daddy climbed the tree and placed the baby bird back inside the nest. “It’s a purple finch,” he explained as he dropped to the ground and scooped Jeremy to his shoulders so he could have a closer look.

The mother arrived and fed the baby and the other nestlings.

Soon, a brightly colored bird joined them.

“Is that the daddy bird?”

“Yes, honey, that’s the daddy,” his mom answered.

“The baby bird will be okay?” Jeremy asked.

Daddy looked at him and smiled, “He’ll be just fine.”


Story, Baby Bird: © 2007, Lorna Thomas, fishgirldreams.blogspot.com

In honor of all the men and women serving in our armed forces throughout the world. Thank you!