The Fledgling

Springtime in these parts signals birth, and the wood sounded with the calls of birds and the occasional sighing of a youngster wobbling about on the ground, looking rather uncertain, as if rudely deposited onto a strange and alien world, as indeed he had been. In our courtyard, hidden under a leafy bush, a baby robin perched on the lowest supple branch, an inch from the ground, the tiny branch swaying dangerously with the one ounce weight of the tiny babe who clung to the branch with all his might. I watched him for some time, and wondered what he was thinking.

Well here I am, the youngster thought
But where is mom and dad?
I’m safe for now from that tom cat
But things are looking bad
This branch I’m on is swaying like
A hurricane passed through
Enough to make a fella sick
And scared of falling too
The ground it seems so far away
And what was that I heard?
Is it the cat? I’m getting scared
Thank goodness it’s a bird
Just sitting on the bird bath lip
And now he flies away
But pretty soon I’ll get my wings
And maybe it’s today
It looks like it is gonna rain
I’m stuck here on this leaf
It’s getting dark and now I’m wet
It’s all beyond belief
I’m cold and wet and in the dark
I’m scared, is that that tom?
Oh phew! It’s only mom

Leave a Reply