The Spice of Life: On a Wing and a Prayer, Feeding Nature’s Nest

As our little one jumped for joy, we rushed outside to see what was causing her excitement. “Mommy, look, there’s a nest outside our window!” A nest of delicately woven twigs sat above the security lights outside the kitchen window. The mother bird, a majestic gray and orange American robin, perched deftly on the edge of the nest, while her young clamored for food and attention with their beaks wide open and their necks stretched upward. Not wanting to put the mother bird on high alert with all our commotion, we decided to tiptoe quietly back into the house.

Over the next few days, she and I, the mother bird and the mother of the house, fell into a silent routine. She would go out in the morning to forage for food, and I would walk to the nest and check on her four little chicks. I would leave small pieces of bread or roti on the kitchen ledge and come back in. “You see, chicks stay in their nests without adults all day. Yet you won’t find them telling their mother that they’re bored. You both need summer camps, books, toys, and Netflix to keep you occupied during summer vacation,” I chided our two daughters, secretly admiring the bird’s faith in the universe that her young will be protected while she’s gone.

This recalls a phrase from Gurbani that urges us to remember that Waheguru provides sustenance for all, which is why flamingos are able to fly hundreds of miles, leaving their young behind.

The mother bird would come back in the evening when we were all playing badminton in the driveway. In fact, we realized that there was also a father bird, and both of them would take turns feeding their young. Their chicks would be fed, while ours would expend their energy in this sport. In the meantime, we would go near the nest to catch a glimpse of the rapidly growing birds, while the parents would watch us from the branches of a distant tree. We were part of the universe in which they had faith.

One morning, as I was visiting the chicks at my usual time, they were stretching their newly formed wings. Soon they will be ready to fly, I thought with bittersweet humor. It reminds us how easily we tend to believe in the permanence of the ephemeral. Birds leave once they learn to fly. That is how nature designed them. The nest remains. Another robin might choose to return home next spring, if the nest survives. Regardless, I remain deeply grateful that the robins chose our home as a safe place to give birth and raise their young. It was an honor.

I find resonance in Asad Badayuni’s speech Sheyr:

“Parind ped se parwaz karte jate hain

ki bastiyon ka muqaddar badalta jata hai.”

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The author is an independent contributor