This afternoon we found a little egg that had fallen out of it's nest. The shell was cracked and the baby bird was still breathing. It was very tramatic for the kids, and myself as well. The baby bird didn't live very long and so Carter and Chloe came to me asking if they could bury it in our little flower garden. They took care of all the details, including making a grave marker and naming the bird. They were so creative in their naming of this sweet baby. She was given the special name of "Birdy." (Carter just asked me how I knew it was a "she" and well, we didn't really know the gender of the bird.) Anyway, after they got her buried, they decided we needed to have a funeral. Again, they were in charge of making the funeral arrangements. They each said a few words about the short and sweet life of Birdy. Chloe talked about how sad it was that Birdy didn't even get a chance to live a full life.
It was tender to see the kids worry and concern for this little baby bird. I even felt a sick feeling in my heart about the little baby, maybe just because I am a mother and have a more tender heart for the living. Anyway, it was a sweet experience for me to watch my children witness the short and tender life of Birdy.
I want to mention that we have seen a couple other baby eggs that have fallen out of the nest. One afternoon we found one egg where the baby had just died. The kids picked up the baby with a shovel and came to show me. The bird fell off the shovel and fell on the ground. Percy, the dog, came up and ate it. We all kind of freaked out and Josie just went running around with her hands up and shaking. She was so upset with Percy. It was really sad. Kind of a gross story, I know, but one worth remembering.
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