By KAREN MADORIN
Recently, several mothers posted similar questions on the internet. All will soon enter empty nest stage as children launch for college/vo-tech, the military, or careers away from home. Their questions were two-fold. How do they prepare for this change, and what acceptable contacts keep them involved in their offspring's lives out of the home?
Recent chaos in our backyard reminded me all species’ fledgling moms experience stress.
Speaking of stress — early July each year means dozens of juvenile birds exit nests. In avian families, some young wait until they can fly and feed themselves before leaving while the precocious leap without safety nets. Most often, this works because mom and pop stay close to noisily protect the freshly launched from threats while providing food until the youngster forages for itself.
Recently, one adventuresome soul pitched itself out of the nest into our dog pen.
Not a good decision, considering our hound — a curious Jack Russell/beagle combo--turned Columbo to investigate this flopping, feathered thing inches from her in a bed of hollyhocks.
Once her cold, pointy nose nudged naughty baby robin, it squawked shrilly. Both parents raced to the rescue, joined by two western kingbird godparents assigned to monitor neighborhood safety violations.
Four diving, shrieking birds bombarded our terrier, diving close enough they could pluck her hair to distract her from that flightless fledgling.
The hubs investigated to find an indignant robin-ette — tiny wings spread, chest puffed, and beak posed to threaten. Dodging attacking adult birds, the human first responder scooped up the little escapee and carried it outside the pen. He released it into a flower bed where it might hide while it matured enough to fly and forage. The adult protection detail landed on a nearby branch, noisily scolding it and anything interfering in its survival.
This youngster was excessively daring and unwilling to listen to adult advice. Once it caught its breath, it leapt out of the flower bed, hopping and flying in one-foot bursts across the lawn and up our alley to a neighbor’s yard. Mom and Dad hovered overhead, squawking raucously. My husband trailed to assure this stayed a robin family matter with no invaders interfering.
Thank goodness nothing molested this inquisitive youngster while Mom and Dad chattered it back into our yard and closer to what we guess is a nest of more obedient siblings. They took turns delivering meals to its wide-open craw while imparting sage wisdom.
Eventually, the post-rain mosquito hatch drove us indoors. When I next ventured outside to work in the garden, I expected to find the neighborhood still on alert as bird parents supervised their recently fledged offspring.
One of two things must’ve happened. Mother Nature provided a meal for hungry prey OR this guy was more mature than we originally thought. If so, it discovered it could fly more than a foot or two at a time. Perhaps it’s back in the nest awaiting parental door Dash service. Regardless, noise levels have dropped to pre-launch decibels.
Imagine internet threads one might follow if robins discussed parenting strategies for empty nesters. Those human moms I mentioned earlier might glean all kinds of wise advice.
Karen Madorin is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and sixth-generation Kansan.