CREEK ROAD GANG
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Fledglings
Jackie Kearins
copyright 2010
It was the second week of May and my husband, Steve and I had just finished moving our son Mac back home for the summer following his junior year at Fairfield University. Alex, our younger boy, had arrived home earlier in the week, having just completed his freshman year at college. Although I loved having my boys at home, it would take some getting used to, as our “nest” had been empty since September. Steve and I were particularly concerned about Alex, as this was his “freshman summer.” We had experienced this phenomenon with our daughter Rosie and with Mac and we knew that it wouldn’t be easy.
One morning later in the week the boys came home, I was in our family room when I heard a crow cawing. I looked out the window and saw it sitting on a branch of the Japanese maple tree in my back yard. I hate these birds. They remind me of flying rats, with their beady eyes and evil faces. The crow started cawing and threw itself against the side of my house. It did this twice before I went to the glass door to see what it was doing. On the crow’s third try, I saw what it was after. It flew away from my house with a tiny chick in its mouth. Before I could fling the door open, it had landed on my neighbor’s roof and inserted its long, yellow beak into the abdomen of the chick. There would be no saving that little guy. The crow flew off carrying the limp fledgling in its mouth. Next, I heard a lot of whistling and tweeting from my roof. A female cardinal flew over to the exact spot where the crow had killed her chick. She nosed around and called for her baby, and then flew off in the direction the crow had flown. I stood at the door feeling sad until I saw the damn crow come back again to my maple tree. It cawed and was eyeing my roof again. Was there a nest on my roof, or in an overhanging limb? Was there another chick up there, waiting for her mom to return to her?
I flung the door open and stepped outside waving my arms like a maniac. “Get out of here, you bastard!” I yelled.
Nothing. The crow looked at me like I was a speck of dust.
“Get out of my yard!” I tried again, and started towards the tree. The crow flew away.
I came back inside and my husband Steve asked, “What the hell is the matter with you?”
I told him the whole sad story about the birds and he looked at me like I had finally lost my mind.
“I thought someone was breaking into the house for God’s sake!” he yelled.
“Me too!” said Alex, who had come into the family room.
“You can’t interfere with nature, you know that,” Steve said.
“But the mother bird tried to get the chick back. She flew to where the crow had killed it, to the exact spot.”
“What’s going on?” asked Mac who had wandered into the room.
I repeated the story for my boys and they both said, “Don’t worry it will be O.K.,” and each gave me a little hug and left.
“Relax, Jack,” Steve said. “It’s just nature taking its normal course, you know? He kissed the top of my head and left.
I sat down and took a deep breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the tree outside in case the crow came back again. The mother cardinal returned and was fluttering between tree branches as though she was still searching for the lost baby. Finally, she flew up to my roof and I wondered if she had another chick up there, hopping around and waiting to learn how to fly.
I felt tears fill my eyes. It was only morning and already I felt exhausted. All of the driving to pick up the kids from school and the arguments about vacations and curfews with the boys had worn me out.
As if on cue, Alex came into the family room with a quizzical look on his face. I braced myself and waited for the next question and answer that we would probably argue about. He held up a sweatshirt he had bought at school.
“When you have a chance, could you sew the hole under the armpit?”
Finally, something I could say “Yes!” to.
“Ya, sure, just give it to me.”
He handed me the sweatshirt and I laid it on my lap. He left the room and I watched him go, missing my pre-college son. I hated this period in adolescence when I always felt so distant from my kids.
I held his sweatshirt up to locate the hole and noticed that it had a crewneck. That figured, I had only bought the kids sweatshirts with hoods. “Another act of rebellion,” I thought with gloom as I got a needle and thread and started mending the shirt.
The kids had always hated hooded clothing. I would tell them that the hoods would keep their heads dry when it rained. This fact is true, however, in reality, this apparel also served a secret purpose. When we left home, I could easily grab the kids by the hoods and pull them back from danger. Many a time I had snatched them back from the sidewalks edge to avoid the truck, bus, car, motorcycle, bicycle, that might harm them. In the summer, I would be lost without hoods to control them, and would reflexively grab their necks or hair to save them from peril.
“Owwww!” They would scream. “You scratched me!”
“Sorry, sorry,” I would say, but I really didn’t mean it. After all, hadn’t I just saved them from the flying baseball, football, Frisbee, pool toy, or flying Popsicle? Sorry, but there are hazards everywhere.
After dinner it began to drizzle and I thought that the weather matched my depressed mood very well. Alex came into the family room and asked, “Is it okay if I go over to Zach’s to play cards?”
“Ya sure,” I said, happy that he didn’t want to go travel the world just yet.
“And….”
It’s fight time, I thought. “What?”
“Can I stay out a little later if the game goes long?”
“Ya, how about 1:30 then?”
“Thanks. Oh, guess what?” he asked.
“What?”
“I looked up cardinal behavior online and it said that they have two to four broods of chicks each summer so maybe you don’t have to worry about the lost one so much.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said, feeling closer to him than I had in weeks. “Have a fun time.”
He put on his shoes and flew out the door, literally fleeing the nest. He was all grown up and had no need for me anymore he….
Two seconds later he ran back in.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s starting to rain, I need a sweatshirt.”
“I hung your new one in the hall closet.”
“No, not that one,” he said, “shouldn’t I wear the one with the hood?”
One morning later in the week the boys came home, I was in our family room when I heard a crow cawing. I looked out the window and saw it sitting on a branch of the Japanese maple tree in my back yard. I hate these birds. They remind me of flying rats, with their beady eyes and evil faces. The crow started cawing and threw itself against the side of my house. It did this twice before I went to the glass door to see what it was doing. On the crow’s third try, I saw what it was after. It flew away from my house with a tiny chick in its mouth. Before I could fling the door open, it had landed on my neighbor’s roof and inserted its long, yellow beak into the abdomen of the chick. There would be no saving that little guy. The crow flew off carrying the limp fledgling in its mouth. Next, I heard a lot of whistling and tweeting from my roof. A female cardinal flew over to the exact spot where the crow had killed her chick. She nosed around and called for her baby, and then flew off in the direction the crow had flown. I stood at the door feeling sad until I saw the damn crow come back again to my maple tree. It cawed and was eyeing my roof again. Was there a nest on my roof, or in an overhanging limb? Was there another chick up there, waiting for her mom to return to her?
I flung the door open and stepped outside waving my arms like a maniac. “Get out of here, you bastard!” I yelled.
Nothing. The crow looked at me like I was a speck of dust.
“Get out of my yard!” I tried again, and started towards the tree. The crow flew away.
I came back inside and my husband Steve asked, “What the hell is the matter with you?”
I told him the whole sad story about the birds and he looked at me like I had finally lost my mind.
“I thought someone was breaking into the house for God’s sake!” he yelled.
“Me too!” said Alex, who had come into the family room.
“You can’t interfere with nature, you know that,” Steve said.
“But the mother bird tried to get the chick back. She flew to where the crow had killed it, to the exact spot.”
“What’s going on?” asked Mac who had wandered into the room.
I repeated the story for my boys and they both said, “Don’t worry it will be O.K.,” and each gave me a little hug and left.
“Relax, Jack,” Steve said. “It’s just nature taking its normal course, you know? He kissed the top of my head and left.
I sat down and took a deep breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the tree outside in case the crow came back again. The mother cardinal returned and was fluttering between tree branches as though she was still searching for the lost baby. Finally, she flew up to my roof and I wondered if she had another chick up there, hopping around and waiting to learn how to fly.
I felt tears fill my eyes. It was only morning and already I felt exhausted. All of the driving to pick up the kids from school and the arguments about vacations and curfews with the boys had worn me out.
As if on cue, Alex came into the family room with a quizzical look on his face. I braced myself and waited for the next question and answer that we would probably argue about. He held up a sweatshirt he had bought at school.
“When you have a chance, could you sew the hole under the armpit?”
Finally, something I could say “Yes!” to.
“Ya, sure, just give it to me.”
He handed me the sweatshirt and I laid it on my lap. He left the room and I watched him go, missing my pre-college son. I hated this period in adolescence when I always felt so distant from my kids.
I held his sweatshirt up to locate the hole and noticed that it had a crewneck. That figured, I had only bought the kids sweatshirts with hoods. “Another act of rebellion,” I thought with gloom as I got a needle and thread and started mending the shirt.
The kids had always hated hooded clothing. I would tell them that the hoods would keep their heads dry when it rained. This fact is true, however, in reality, this apparel also served a secret purpose. When we left home, I could easily grab the kids by the hoods and pull them back from danger. Many a time I had snatched them back from the sidewalks edge to avoid the truck, bus, car, motorcycle, bicycle, that might harm them. In the summer, I would be lost without hoods to control them, and would reflexively grab their necks or hair to save them from peril.
“Owwww!” They would scream. “You scratched me!”
“Sorry, sorry,” I would say, but I really didn’t mean it. After all, hadn’t I just saved them from the flying baseball, football, Frisbee, pool toy, or flying Popsicle? Sorry, but there are hazards everywhere.
After dinner it began to drizzle and I thought that the weather matched my depressed mood very well. Alex came into the family room and asked, “Is it okay if I go over to Zach’s to play cards?”
“Ya sure,” I said, happy that he didn’t want to go travel the world just yet.
“And….”
It’s fight time, I thought. “What?”
“Can I stay out a little later if the game goes long?”
“Ya, how about 1:30 then?”
“Thanks. Oh, guess what?” he asked.
“What?”
“I looked up cardinal behavior online and it said that they have two to four broods of chicks each summer so maybe you don’t have to worry about the lost one so much.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said, feeling closer to him than I had in weeks. “Have a fun time.”
He put on his shoes and flew out the door, literally fleeing the nest. He was all grown up and had no need for me anymore he….
Two seconds later he ran back in.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s starting to rain, I need a sweatshirt.”
“I hung your new one in the hall closet.”
“No, not that one,” he said, “shouldn’t I wear the one with the hood?”
* * *
Biographical Note: Jackie Kearins was born and raised in Massachusetts. She studied Medical
Assisting in college and has worked in doctor’s offices, clinical
hospital and basic research laboratories ever since. In 2005, Jackie
left her profession to become a full-time homemaker. She began taking
an autobiographical writing class in January 2009. She lives in the
Philadelphia suburbs with her husband, three children and two cats.
Jackie's stories "Ruthie" , "My Dining Room Table," "Aunt Jen's Ring", "The Jitterbug" and "Dear Janis Joplin" appeared in previous issues.
Jackie's stories "Ruthie" , "My Dining Room Table," "Aunt Jen's Ring", "The Jitterbug" and "Dear Janis Joplin" appeared in previous issues.
