New Life

Tiny speckled Mockingbird eggs were hidden in the depths of an azalea bush near my house. For about a week after finding them, I kept tabs on the nest and caught glimpses of the cunning Mom and Dad as they tried to divert me from their special treasure.

Sadly, this story does not end well. The eggs were stolen by a predator. I was sick at heart for days. I felt badly for the parents, and I was angry with the wretched, murdering thief.

On a brighter note, the trees surrounding my country home are filled with the song of these prolific birds, so some of their eggs are surely hatching.

Life and death must co-exist, but it's life that I prefer to watch.