The Blues


Yesterday, I saw a lone bluebird high in the pomegranate tree, apparently eating her own emptied nest. Upon seeing this, I immediately felt a kinship with the little, winged creature. It almost gave me the inclination to go inside and start taking bites out of my own reminders of my former life as a mom – to somehow find my own way to gobble up the residual evidence of my daughter’s days at home. I envied the bird for being able to erase the pain of such a life-altering flight; she must have been so proud and disappointed all at once to see the small, blue blur of motion as it fluttered into the distant sky on its own – finally after so much effort and concern; the mother bird must have been so torn on that day, the day that she later consumed the very twigs and fibers that her small family had been living in since September.

I watched…out of nothing more than my own curious and empathic nature, I continued to observe this odd avian ritual. Eventually, the bird poked and picked at the bunch of sticks until the few remaining in design simply collapsed and appeared to dissolve into the air below her. She bleated out strange and un-birdly sounds then, looking all around in a seemingly obvious desperation to understand why she ate her home; I couldn’t watch any more after that and went inside, getting myself lost in other varying household chore projects for the next few hours.

I’ve noticed since then, that the beautiful bluebird has not vacated the pomegranate tree since the demolition of her own nest; instead, she has taken to the very tips of a sturdy branch that juts out among the furthest reaches of the tree’s skeletal form – unnaturally exposed, but wanting to be apparent to her children should they happen to pass by in the frenzied high of flight. My heart sinks today as I watched her – droplets beading around and down iridescent, azure feathers slicked to her stubborn shape perched in the rainy grey world – cold and alone and rapidly losing hope of ever being anyone’s mom again. I guess “human” nature does not stop at the perimeter of our species’ existence at all…

5 thoughts on “The Blues

  1. Fabulous photo. Birds never cease to amaze me, they survive the toughest of the elements, but who cries at their passing?