Ed and Reub: Victory

There are so many terrifying spectacles going on around the world right now that I am afraid to watch the morning news. However, the tiny drama of nearby life is a different matter.

The smallest things are exciting. Like that handful of dead grass that I imagine three days ago as a fallen nest near the front door.

I'm going over to pick it up.

But just as I reach down, a little bird crawls out.

Chit, chit, chit... this little bird, an Oregon Junco, scolds me vigorously. After all, there is no such thing as a neglected and fallen nest, but a house that is built and inhabited on the ground. Many thanks. Back.

During the next 24 hours I try unsuccessfully to get a peek at what's in that nest, but it's always covered in its fun, bird-made tarpaulin.

And then mom left the nest slightly uncovered yesterday. Three perfect little speckled eggs.

All the bad headlines in the world can't destroy my joy.

But I get scared quickly.

What did they think anyway? Are they inexperienced bird parents? This is not the well-camouflaged nest described in the bird book. It is located on a flat green ground cover. It screams NEST NEST NEST to every hungry predator. There is a growing brood of baby crows on the street and I fear that they will soon be feeding on Junco eggs. My Junco Eggs. So John sets up some sort of screen to allay my fears. He says it's inspired by architect Frank Gehry, and I suppose it is.

There is news this afternoon. And again, it's the best news: three little babies. They are little more than bare beating hearts lying in a bed of soft grass and moss. You are the most vulnerable thing I have ever seen. Will they survive? I dont know. But they are now 12 hours old and in this world that is a victory in itself.