During last month’s stay-at-home-order, another family came to live with us. The parents were sneaky at first—hanging around several days as if just visiting, building a nest overnight under our porch, and sitting on it until three tiny beaks surfaced from underneath the mother’s wings. Nowadays, the kitchen window provides our cat a front row seat for watching the parents deliver nonstop food to three squawking mouths. When and where do the adults rest? Certainly not on the nest anymore. Their fuzzball babies take up every inch, which means they’ll be enrolled in flight school soon. My poor porch. A distinct fly-over pattern already covers the deck, so I hate to see three more bombers added to the squadron.
As a nature lover, maybe I should overlook the mess and be grateful the parents deemed our porch a safe hangar for their precious cargo. Psalm 61 describes God doing the same for us. “Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you . . . lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.”
Where have you seen bird nests this spring?