On the surface, this looks like a story about little birds learning to fly. It’s not.
I’m sure your next assumption is that the little flying birds are a metaphor for my children. That would be a mighty fine story and you’re welcome to tell it to yourself. This… this is something different.
There was a little bird in the front yard the other day.
It wasn’t quite flying, but it was doing the fly-hop thing. The parental birds were in the nearest tree branch, crying out what sounded like encouragement and instruction.
My neighbor and her daughters were quite distressed. They were worried that the sweet little baby would be devoured by one of the neighborhood cats. They were worried that the bird would die of cold, unable to fly back up to it’s nest. They worried that the bird would starve. [Read more…]