Staying and Leaving

It's 5:00 am and I hear my youngest son getting ready to leave for his job mowing greens at the golf course. I let myself drift back to sleep with the satisfaction of knowing that he does not need my help to do this. Next I am roused by Jon telling me he is off for a bike ride and will make breakfast when he gets back. I take my time and manage to get up about the same time as my oldest son who has just driven home last night.  We make coffee and I quiz him about his upcoming trip to Poland.  My third son surfaces and the two of them go to the gym before his lifeguarding shift begins.  I take a few minutes to myself in the garden before Jon returns and lights the grill for breakfast. All five of us sit on the patio for blueberry pancakes before everyone is off again to jobs and shopping for the upcoming school year. The boys will be leaving home, one by one, over the next couple of weeks, leaving Jon and I, for the first time, with an empty nest.

During our comings and goings this summer we have noticed one particular rabbit sitting in the same place on our front lawn.  I suspected she had a nest nearby, but found out where too late. My father in law was mowing the front lawn when the babies scattered. We found the mother attempting to lick her kit back to life. There was no hope for it, as most of its head was missing along with two paws I found scattered nearby. And those that had escaped were sitting by my front door or hiding beneath the hostas. I examined the empty nest and found it snuggly empty and lined with the mothers fur. By the next morning all of the kits had disappeared except for one. This was obviously the runt of the litter and wouldn't leave its mother. She nursed it on our front stoop for one more day. I realize now that all the time she had been sitting in the middle of our lawn, she had been nursing her kits and keeping them hidden beneath her.  They were too big now for that and must find their own way... or not.  The runt had also disappeared by the next day.

We have bird houses in our back yard, but the wrens prefer the small electrical boxes that meant to hold outside lights beside the doors. It was impossible not to notice one male building a nest  because its mate chose our back patio door.  I first caught sight of the bird collecting and maneuvering twigs into the hole. It worked throughout the day, regardless of the family's coming and going. The wren would simply defend its nest from us by scolding us with angry chirps. If ignored, it would attempt to catch my eye by flying to perch at my eye level so it could give me a hard look. I never did anything to cause the bird to fear me, but it never gave up its scolding whenever I was outside on the patio. When the chicks hatched we could hear their racket whenever the parent arrived with food. I am guessing there were quite a few mouths to feed by the number of large bugs that were carried in.

However, the wren had decided I couldn't be near the nest when he entered to feed the brood. So he devised a trick to lead me away. He would fly down into my path, clicking loudly, so that I wouldn't step on him. As I approached he would hop away, but not too far as to lose me.  In this way he led me away into the garden before doubling back and entering the nest. It felt as if I had obtained a bossy pet. I found myself looking out for him each day and anticipating the first flight of the babies.
To my dismay they were gone overnight. I could hear the parents screaming overhead, but didn't catch sight of any young ones. I started to worry, assuming the worst. There are stray cats, big black crows and a hawk or two around.  Any one of these could have been also waiting for that first flight. I did watch my little brave wren chase off a hawk, but I will never know if the babies survived.  All I know is that they are gone... and I miss them.