My daughter bikes around the neighborhood while I walk far behind. I’m looking for new bird nests. Together, we’ve found old ones from last year in the lilac and the low bushes. Every evening, we go in search of nests. She bikes; I walk.
When I was a girl, I searched for bird nests all spring. I still remember the hope, the excitement, and the wonder.
I walk by the pines. Just to my left, I see something curious: strands of something gently woven into the branches. I peer in, amazed. To small to be a Robin’s nest, and too ornate for a Sparrow, the nest must belong to an Eastern Bluebird.
I stand on tiptoe and use my phone to observe.
What a wonderful Saturday afternoon. I’ll return next week to check on their progress.