Loving All Our Fledglings

This odd and wild spring of 2020, I followed  a Northern Cardinal couple sending their chicks out to the world while my first-born graduated from high school.

May 24th, 2020 

A female Northern Cardinal comes often to stop by in the Japanese maple right next to our porch here in East End Pittsburgh. So does the male cardinal.

May  31st 

A bird’s nest has appeared in the tree. I can see a red tail growing out of the nest. I  quietly climb through the bedroom window to the roof porch. It takes me a while but I find a small opening in the thick of the tree branches, big enough for me to see the nest. A female cardinal is brooding. In my mind, I quietly ask if she is ok if I follow her nesting with my camera. Through the little hole, she just looks me in the eyes.

June 7th

The papa cardinal visits the nest often, and so does the mama – the chicks must have hatched. With my camera I again climb to the porch roof. All I can see in the nest is something that looks like… a giant transparent stinkbug. A closer examination reveals that it is a dirty plastic bag. Cardinals are said to be great recyclers. 

June 8th

Three naked nestlings are huddling together, next to the dirty plastic bag. Their tiny beaks spring up and open when mama or papa lands on their side of the nest.

June 14th

Their first voice was a tiny whine. The wee squeal is now turning into a miniature bird song. The wild looking creatures are growing all kinds of feathers.

The cardinal mama and papa have changed their parenting behavior. Instead of stopping to visit the chicks perching on the south branch of the nest, the parents hover on all sides of it, making the young ones stand up on their feet and find their wings.

A side note: My first-born graduated from high school today. Because of the global pandemic and the physical distancing requirements, we celebrated our offspring by cheering and weeping along the parade route in Schenley park. In the evening, we gathered by our screens for the commencement ceremony.

June 16th

The nest is unusually busy this morning. Both parents visit it frequently, sometimes even together.

At about 11 am, I climb up to the roof to see what the situation looks like from that perspective. The mama cardinal and the chick (the only one I can see) just sit, gazing both in the same direction. No feeding, no fighting over the food, just a long pause.

Then in the early afternoon, little by little, one of the chicks pulls itself out of the nest. It tumbles down to the closest branches. The second one follows. The chicks fluff their feathers and stretch their wings to new dimensions.  When one fledling loses its balance, it grasps its tiny feet on the tree branch and flaps its wings faster than ever until it makes a clumsy little cartwheel around the branch. It almost looks like the fledlings are rooting for each other. And parents, they stay close by, regularly beak-to-beak-feeding the fledlings, making sure that their now free-ranged chicks don’t wander off to the weak limbs of the tree.

By sunset, one of the baby birds is settling for its first night out of the nest, snoozing in the Japanese maple a few feet away from the empty nest.

June 17th

In the morning, the last fledling is still there. By noon, it is gone too. 

In the evening my husband tells me: “There were so many cardinals gathered in  Frick park today.”

Audubon Society confirms his observation: Northern Cardinals are a ‘stable’ species in here in Southwestern Pennsylvania. They are the lucky ones: According to  “Survival by Degrees, 389 Bird Species on the Brink,” climate crisis threatens two-thirds of the bird species in North America with extinction.

So it isn’t only me who feels kinship with the cardinal parents. My family and the cardinal family belong to the groups of beings that are not in the front lines facing the worst of climate crisis. I have no idea if the cardinals are aware of the suffering of their fellow birds and looming dangers that eventually will threaten them too. We people do know. We also know we are the ones risking all life on Earth. 

For the sake of all our children, of all colors and all species, may we get past our wicked defense mechanisms that deaden our heart and dim our collective wisdom. May we get past our feelings of guilt and overwhelm. May we too find the innate love, wisdom, and courage that reside inside us all. None of us can be happy, free, safe until we all are.