A Child's Lament

This afternoon my instinct was to veer east into Eagles Field, as we now call it.

The men have seen the eagles circling the silage pit and the corn field. I have seen one parent, last Friday, near our neighbour Randy's yard. I have gone to the grove of trees holding the nest regularly, and there was never anyone there except for last Monday: Little Bird was sitting there, motionless, in the heat of the afternoon, her back to the nest that cradled her not that long ago.

Today as I pulled the truck close to the fence that divided Eagles Field from the one I can drive a truck in, I saw an almost unrecognisable lump high up in the tree adjacent to the nest. It seemed to be roiling in pain. 

After long minutes it straightened itself out: Little Bird, feathers looking ruffled and bedraggled.

Little Bird, clearly in distress, crying.

This was the first time I have heard a sound out of either of the children.

Two shadows crossed the truck. The parents, never too far away, winged their way to the grove. The father circled over the scene, and the mother swooped in. She landed next to her child for a moment; and then she perched on the edge of the nest, where she could watch and encourage her. 

Sound on!

Little Bird could not be comforted. But somehow, even as she cried, she must have heard the familiar tones of her mother gently chirruping at her. Finally she took to the air; her mother joined her. 

All too soon, however, the young one was back, on the same branch, still in distress. She was trying to fly, but couldn't seem to summon the courage.

Back came the mother, circling the trees and flying in to land, this time on the branch right next to her child.

Startled, Little Bird took flight. 

This time she didn't return.  

Now it was the mother's turn to fret on the branch. Just as Little Bird had, Mama Bird became agitated, peering down at the ground. 

Finally she, too, calmed down and left.

I was curious as to what might have upset them so much so I picked up the side-by-side and drove right to the area, now devoid of birds.

Nothing.

I looked up from this unfamiliar position underneath the nest and the trees and breathed deeply, thinking about these two birds I have come to care about so fiercely.

 

And then it came to me.

Today is 17 years since my Mum left this earth for heaven.

Sometimes a girl just needs her mum, even though she's been gone for 17 years. There may not be a reason. She just wants to know her mum is nearby.

And I thought of what my Dad's friend Tony Hanson told him: "She is with God and God is with us. So she's not very far away."

Even when Little Bird will have to part from her mother, in the regular course of things, I want to think they will still be connected in some way. She will have learnt what it is to be a good eagle because of how her mother has always been there for her. 

Including when she cries.