A Death in the Garden

Hi everyone,

Part of the fun of this blog for me is watching the day to day drama that unfolds in a small quiet place like a garden. It makes me realize that stories are everywhere. Unfortunately, in spite of the beauty, unlike romance, some do not end happily.

I was so excited to watch that first Black Swallowtail caterpillar grow. He'd reached a pretty good size, but I knew he wasn't full grown yet. The other day he disappeared. I think a robin may have spotted him. He was on a part of the parsley that was a little thin, and the next day, he was gone.

I kept looking for him, but couldn't find him. A few days later I discovered five tiny Spicebush swallowtail caterpillars in their little leaf houses that they folded together like little green tacos. I also discovered a second little Black Swallowtail caterpillar on the parsley who has now been dubbed Nibble.

After discovering Nibble, I heard a peeping behind me. A sparrow chick had fallen from a nest in the tree near the garden. Sitting in the grass, I knew he was completely helpless. He wasn't fledged enough to fly into any of the bushes or trees. I figures he was maybe three days away from being fully flighted, so I decided to catch him, make sure he wasn't injured and protect him until his wings got strong enough to fly.

I caught the little bird. I could feel his tiny heart beating in my hand. I put him in a small cage I keep around for occasions such as this and covered him up with a towel so he wouldn't be afraid. I left him on the front porch so the change of temperature from outside to inside wouldn't shock him, and my cats would leave him alone.

That's when I saw her. His mother. She frantically hopped around the edge of the porch calling for her lost baby. It broke my heart. I couldn't hear the cries of that bird and not think about what it would be like to lose one of my own children. Who was I to take him away from her? Who am I to intervene and know what is best for a wild creature?

Except I had recently found a dead mouse in the garden, pulled apart by a hawk. I'd seen the young Red-tail perched atop a utility pole in my neighbor's yard. I knew that baby bird was in danger until he could fly.

But the mother bird persisted, and I relented. I let the baby go, placing him in the thickest growth of the butterfly garden. I'd hoped being near the house and under the cover of the flowers he'd be protected. His mother immediately came to him, feeding him and encouraging him to fly. I felt it was best to let nature take its course.

Until I found him dead the next day. The hawk got him.

I could have saved him. I had him in my hands, protected. I made the wrong call, at least it feels like I did.

So I'm sad for the loss of a baby.

It's just the nature of nature, I'm afraid.

Jess