Fluffy

During my time (9+ years!) away from the northwoods of Wisconsin, I'd forgotten how much it is Animal Planet-esque up here. There are raccoons and foxes, fish and ducks, salamanders, toads, and even the occasional black bear. It's entertaining and exciting, to say the least. Sometimes it's even a little bit crazy.

Case in point: Two weeks ago there was a nest of tiny baby sparrows in a hanging plant on my parents' front porch. We peeked in on them almost every day and watched them go from tiny, featherless pink babies to slightly larger, featherless pink babies. Their mom fed them and watched over them, and we felt privileged to have a peek into their cute little world.

Then my parents' cat, Roxy, a former stray who my father refers to as a "cold-blooded killer" (you see where this is going?) found the nest and ate the babies. Lovely.

Deer wander through our front yard every day. Yesterday they went all the way up to the front porch and ate all of the flowers out of my mom's flower pots.

Twice last week raccoons were in the compost bin.

See what I mean?

Meet Fluffy:

While my sisters, mom, and niece were on the front porch a few days ago, they saw a bluejay get in a fight with some nuthatches and then steal a nuthatch baby and bite its head off. It was pretty traumatizing. Honestly, whoever thinks that nature is just cute and cuddly is out of his or her mind...

After the bluejay cannibalism, there was one little fledgling nuthatch left on the ground, shaken and scared. What to do? We waited a bit for the parents, but they didn't come back.

He was so pitiful and cute and helpless, so we tried to put him back in his tree. He jumped out. We put him back. He jumped out again. Not wanting him to hurt himself, we put him in a nest my brother-in-law found in the woods awhile ago, and put that nest in a box to keep him safe.

Seriously, how cute is he?

After doing some research, we learned that fledglings hang out on the ground as they learn to fly (hence, why putting him back in a tree resulted in him catapulting himself out of the tree...). Usually their parents stick around to care for them, but in this case we didn't see them.

We fed Fluffy some soggy cat food and hamburger, and watched him for a few hours. My mom figured out that if we tapped on the front of the nest, he would open his mouth and search for food. If we didn't tap on it, he would clamp his little beak shut and we couldn't get any food in at all. There was much tapping. I squashed over a dozen ants, which he loved.

My two-year old niece, Aleah, fell in love with him.

"Fuffy birdie! Fuffy birdy! Poor birdy." She has trouble with her l's.

Since Roxy is a proven cold-blooded killer, we fed Fluffy some bedtime hamburger and put him in his nest in a box in the closet for the night.

It might sound silly, but I found myself praying for this little tiny bird that night. That he'd be okay. That we'd find his parents. After all the animal drama we've had this summer, it's incredible to me that God cares for every sparrow and knows what is happening to each tiny bird. In our front yard alone there must be three dozen birds with nests and eggs and little bird lives. God knows every one. And God knows Fluffy.

I need to remember this when I'm in the midst of a crisis (read: job search). It's so easy to be anxious about things in life, particularly in such a transitory phase as that which my husband and I find ourselves in these days. Where will we we end up? Will my calling to the church result in an official position, and if so, when? Will there be a teaching job for Daryl, a pastoring job, or both? Or (gulp) neither?

Then I remember: how much more will God care for me than for a tiny bird?

I woke up at dawn, fed Fluffy breakfast, and then put him back under the tree where his parents had last taken care of him.

Then I waited. It was a misty, foggy, chilly morning. I didn't want him to be cold or to starve, but I also knew that we couldn't feed a bird twenty times a day for long, especially with Roxy in the house. His parents had to come through.

I waited some more.

Then, praise be, the mommy bird came back. Then, the daddy bird came back. They preened Fluffy's feathers. He chirped with happiness. They fed him a caterpillar. He spread his tiny fledgling feathers with joy.

My family made one more trip out to say goodbye.

"Bye, fuffy birdie!" said Aleah.

Who knew a nature channel story could end so well?