adventures in birdsitting

it's not that i'm a bad blogger, it's just that things start happening and suddenly it's too hard to face reality in the form of the written word. the birds just got bigger and bigger BY THE SECOND and then they were full grown and standing at the edge of their little home, peering out into the big bad world - as tiny reminders of the future i face with my own little birds. and so then what? i'm supposed to ignore the too-obvious metaphor that is this blog and non-chalantly keep you updated on the rapid growth and eventual departure of our hatchlings? you want me to talk about empty nest syndrome in a literal sense? sorry. i have a degree in theatre, which means i'm programmed to find meaning and subtext in a cup of coffee.

here's the final chapter. yes, indeed, the final chapter. as the previous deluge of photo posts prove, the birds went from squab to pigeon. they practiced flapping flapping and slowly let go of the safety of the back of the slip. they learned that there's a big world out there, and they found themselves interested in it and i was proud of them for that.

i have a secret. one night, when everyone else was asleep, i peeked in on them and i'm not sure what propelled me, but i had the impulse to make contact. and, for some reason, they let me. maybe they were sleepy. or maybe they understood that i was okay. or maybe they were indulging me. it only happened that one time, but they let me pet their sweet, still yellow tufted heads. i scrubbed my hands clean afterwards, but such encounters, feathers or tiny cheeks and hands, linger for hopefully ever on the fingertips. parental imprinting, i get it.

and this feeling was on my mind when the family said goodbye to our avian counterparts and sealed up the a/c slip for good (or at least for the life of Gorilla Tape, which is pretty heavy duty). Because it turns out that with birds and nests come other things, like tiny bugs that invade households. i spotted one on the ledge near the slip one day and that's all it took to trigger a day's worth of phantom itches and general paranoia. i will admit that choosing between my human family and my bird family was a not so difficult choice. in my brainworld utopia, we exist happily together, without the bugs. in a tiny New York apartment, it's not nearly so simple, or sterile.

this pigeon thing, it's turned out to be a sweet chapter in our family history. as we continue to wonder about our final family portrait, i have no doubt that the little birds will forever influence us, remind us that our little nest is never too full, our lives too busy, our minds or hearts too closed up to make room for more life.