Last month, I wrote a piece about the persistence of the birds who built a nest on the fan blades in our courtyard Ingenious Persistence – Richard Freeborn

We have watched the parents in their daily feeding cycles coming to and fro to the nest, and counted three chicks. We held our breath during a storm earlier this month, as it was a wild storm that led to the death of the chicks last year. This storm was nowhere near as bad and the chicks continued cheeping, chirping, and demanding more food.

At one point I thought we were down to two babies, and then this past weekend, they changed from scrawny spike-haired chicks too real birds. And there were four of them not three.

On Sunday morning we spotted one of them venturing out of the nest and onto the fan blade. There was a flurry of movement in our house as the cat and the dogs were bundled inside and all doors closed.

This was not a popular decision, especially with our cat, Roon, who despite closing in on 16 years still considers himself to be the rambunctious wild-child he was in his youth (don’t we all!).

Almost like that was a trigger, the first bird fluttered out of the nest and onto the ground. The others soon followed, settling on branches, guttering, or the top of the brick wall.

They spent maybe fifteen or twenty minutes getting the feel for their wings, making practice flights across the courtyard, and from the gutter to the ridge line of the roof.

And then they were gone. Off into the line of trees that follow the creek behind the house, and indistinguishable from all the other birds flocking and foraging for the afternoon.

There was a feeling of disappointment that they were gone, but also a sense of wonder. Days and weeks of nurturing and in twenty minutes they are gone and off to a life of their own.

I wonder if there’s a lesson there for humans?