A Bird in the Hand is Worth …

Whatever You Find in the Bush.

When I was in junior high school, my younger brother, Tim, five years my junior, had the responsibility of mowing the lawn every Saturday.

One Saturday morning, the mower suddenly stopped and within a few minutes, Tim walked through the back door, carefully holding something cupped in both hands. When we asked what he was holding, he insisted on first sharing what he saw outside.

As he was mowing near our gnarly old apple tree at the side of the house, he noticed a birds’ nest had fallen from somewhere in the tree above. He said there were empty blue eggshells and a couple of tiny newly hatched and featherless baby robins lying dead on the ground next to the nest.

We asked again what he was holding in his hands, but he persisted. The concern on his face was evident as he went on to predict how sad the mother and father robins would be to find their home gone, along with their little family.

“C’mon, Tim, what are you holding?”

Tim slowly opened his hands and showed us a blue robin’s egg. On one side of the egg, the shell had a very small hole.  We watched as a tiny yellow beak pecked intermittently at the hole, following a natural instinct to claim its rightful place in the world.

I still remember how touched I was by the compassion in Tim’s voice and how carefully he chose every word ...

“Just look at this, you guys.” He whispered. “It’s trying so hard to be born … I’m … going to be … a father ...”

Note:  Tim has a degree in Landscape Design Engineering and a thriving landscape business. He and his wife love animals, have four grown children, a lot of grandchildren …

… and not a one was hatched from an egg.

Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
Quora Top Writer 2018.
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