Story of a Bird Pt. II

 

After getting so many updates about my little birdies, I visited my hometown again to have a look at them.

I heard a lot from my mother on calls about how protective the bird was of her kids. Whenever someone tried to peek inside her nest or even get closer to them, she would come flying instantly and try to shoo them away with her beak. It was obvious that she was a mother of two innocent kids, just trying to protect her babies.

Earlier, I had only seen the mama bird trying to protect her eggs by sitting over them almost all the time. But this time when I saw the nest, the two hatchlings had grown into nestlings. I saw them from a distance because I didn't want to interrupt their privacy. And I finally discovered something I had been curious about for so long: the bird's identity. She is a songbird, a red-vented bulbul. Such a beautiful creation of God.

But there was another surprise waiting for me.

I finally saw the father. Earlier, I thought that the mother bird was the only one taking care of her babies. But to my surprise, I came to know that there was a father too. He would watch his family from above because the nest was too small, so he let his partner sit over it while he always kept an eye on his little ones. Such a beautiful family.

I felt blessed to witness something so simple and yet so extraordinary.

The very day I came home, my mom pointed towards the nest and said, "See, one of the chicks is about to fall because the nest is slightly unbalanced." Without thinking twice, I immediately fixed the nest and put the chick back inside.

Then I asked, "How has everyone been seeing this for so long and not doing anything?"

I mean, how can someone be afraid of baby birds? Seriously.

I know I might sound a little pompous saying this, but how can anyone be afraid of these tiny little creatures? Or was everyone actually afraid of their mother? Anyway, I simply did what I thought needed to be done.

I clicked a few pictures of the babies and gently held them for a moment. It felt like pure magic to have a tiny bird in my palm. For a moment, I felt as though they already trusted me.

I whispered, "I love you." In return I got a little tweet, like he said, "I love you too."

The experience was wholesome and unbelievable, so I impulsively shared the pictures online. I have this habit of wanting to share every little moment that makes me happy. I don't do it for likes or fame. I simply love collecting moments. It's more than a passion for me. 

Soon after, one of my friends texted me, "Don't touch the hatchlings, otherwise the mother bird might abandon the kids. Human touch is not acceptable to birds."

I knew about this, so I said, "I know, but that's only applicable to eggs, na?"

For this, he replied, "No! This applies to young ones too!"

That really felt like a thunderbolt. My intentions were never wrong. I loved those little birds. I had only tried to help.

Dusk had fallen, yet unlike usual days the bird had not returned to its nest. I was worried and kept asking myself, "Did I screw everything up? I mean, I didn't mean to. I didn't do it on purpose. If I had known this before, I would never have done it. I was just trying to help."

I kept waiting for their parents to return but neither of them came. I again started asking myself, "How can a mother abandon her own babies just because someone tried to protect them? What if they had fallen? Would that have been better?" 

The whole situation disturbed me.

I kept looking at the nest even late at night, but the parents still didn't come. Then I decided to take care of the birdies on my own. I was concerned about their safety, so I took them inside the house. I started searching for animal rescue services, bird food, and ways to take care of them.

Then my mom said, "I told you to be cautious about them. That's why we were so aware of them all this time. And why did you take them inside? If their mother came by any chance and didn't see her kids, she might never come again. You can give these baby birds everything, but you can't love them like their parents, can you?"

That touched me. I immediately put them back in their nest and kept praying that their mother would come back.

That day, I learned that being too protective of someone isn't always good. Sometimes, you have to let things happen their own way. And this is nature, after all.

I didn't want to sleep that night. I was worried and stressed, continuously praying for the kids. The next day, I woke up at 4 a.m., opened the gate, and saw the mother bird sitting beside her kids in the nest. It was raining, and as usual she was sitting there trying to protect her kids from the rain.

Watching this, I sighed heavily and said, "Thank you, God!"

After all, she was a mother of two grown-up chicks. Why wouldn't she come?

As the babies grew rapidly, the nest became smaller and smaller for them. I consistently kept checking the nest several times a day, just to know if they were okay. Every day, I saw the mother bird bringing food for her chicks and putting it into their beaks. The birdies would open their small beaks as soon as they felt their mother's presence. She kept feeding them until they fell asleep.

I kept checking on them because they were growing so quickly, and the tiny nest would sometimes become unbalanced. So, I adjusted it several times a day. The mommy bird kept watching me and might have been thinking, "The weirdo isn't that bad. She's too consistent."

One morning, I checked the kids inside their nest and found that one of them wasn't there while the other was hanging upside down from the nest. Seeing this, I immediately put the chick back into the nest and started looking for his sibling. Later I saw the other chick somewhere among the tree branches. I carefully picked him up and returned him to the nest. The mother bird was sitting nearby, clearly alarmed. Eventually when both babies were safely back in the nest, she seemed to calm down.

I was slowly learning that raising children isn't easy. Like seriously. And apparently, that applies to every species.

One day, my sister rushed towards me and said, "I saw a large bird sitting above the tree. It had red eyes and white feathers."

I then said, "Then shoo her away. She might be a predator."

That bird flew away. At first, we didn't believe her and told her she might have seen a pigeon. Then she Googled it and came back with her research, showing us the exact image of a HAWK named Shikra.

So we became more attentive, and I started watching them more often. I also noticed that both parent birds had started shouting loudly in the sky. As if it were an alarm and they knew that their kids were in danger.

For a moment, none of us were there. Suddenly, I heard a distinctive bird call. I rushed to the door and opened it. One of the chicks was gone. The larger bird flew overhead with a little one beneath it, flapping its wings and spreading its feathers in the sky. That was all I saw.

It happened in an instant, and I was shocked. I started wondering whether it was their parent helping the chick learn to fly or the hawk had taken him away. We were all shocked. I was completely devastated. I didn't want to accept the truth.

I kept watching the other one, trying to protect him from that evil eye. Then I started contemplating the whole situation from that morning. I started sobbing and telling my mom, "I miss that one. He had feathers that opened when I took him in my hand. He was about to fly. Why did this happen?"

I wanted an answer and started blaming myself.

In the afternoon, I saw the remaining chick being fed a small baby lizard by his mother. I was terrified and then asked myself, "Isn't this a part of the life cycle?"

I started giving myself logical explanations. The mother bird was feeding her baby with another creature's life. And something more powerful than her had possibly taken her baby. It was harsh. It was painful. But it was nature. I have also heard that the deeds of parents somehow become the karma of their children: the endless cycle of life and death.

I don't know whether I believe that. I just knew that I missed my baby bird.

Before dawn, when I was busy with my laptop and constantly peeking through the window, suddenly my mother screamed, "See, that bird is back again!"

We opened the door and saw the other one being caught by that bird too. Before we could do anything, she flew away.

I was completely broken.

Why the hell did we put the chick back in its nest? But the parent birds started shouting whenever we took them inside the house. If we took them inside, at least they could be saved. But if we took them inside, how would their mother feed them?

They were just a few days away from flying. Why the hell did I fail to save them? It was all my fault. I started blaming myself and kept crying.

"It's the life cycle. It happens," my inner voice said. 

"Fuck the life cycle. I want the birdies back." I screamed. 

More than anything, I was worried about the parent birds. It must have been really hard for them to survive after this whole incident. They had sacrificed so much to raise their little ones, and now they were no longer there. This must have been an extremely painful experience for them.

I asked God, "Why the hell did you do this?"

No land animal. No human. No calamity. Nothing took them away except someone from their own kind.

I learned one thing from this: the world will never be in favour of the weak. Either you have to become strong, or you might get killed by someone more powerful than you.

I started searching more about birds and real-life incidents. I found a similar story on Reddit that really got me.

Reddit story. 

I cried a lot and finally accepted the truth. Then I prayed to God, "Okay, whatever happened might have been fate. But please give them a good birth. That's just my wish."

This morning, I saw the mother bird sitting beside the nest. She was holding a beetle in her beak and looking for her kids. As if her chicks would suddenly appear from somewhere and she would feed them with her beak, just as she had done all this time. It was like she had denied the truth and still hadn't accepted her fate. The chirping from her was saying it all. It was a fusion of mourning and hope. Seeing this, my heart cried even more. I wish I could bring them back or fix the whole situation, but sadly I couldn't.

I have noticed one thing: nothing in this world is more distressing than parents losing their grown-up kids.

We all love happy endings. I too wanted this to be a happy one, but unfortunately it turned into a sad one. I would have been happier if I had seen them fly and leave the nest on their own. But sadly, God had written an opposite story.

As a bird lover, it was really hard for me to portray this whole grief. But still, I have to write this story because that's the only way I know how to express it.

Anyway, I learned a lot from this whole experience. It's hard for me to accept this, but I have to. And maybe in the future, I could do something more meaningful for such innocent ones.

A last message: You can earn the trust of humans easily but when a creature trusts you, it means you have a precious heart. So keep it if you have it. And always stay kind to animals and birds.

Huh!

P.S. I got this tattoo of a bird because I've been a bird lover since I was a kid. My spirit birds are the dove and the nightingale. The next one I'll get will be of a horse because the horse has been my spirit animal from the beginning. I'm going to have it on my left arm.

Every tattoo has a story, and everything happens at the right time. Gotta have more. 

Read Part 1: Story of a bird Pt. I