Nesting
The nest was coming along. He brought by some grass and twigs, unsure of what to do with them. He knows she’s the expert. If he does something wrong, she’ll just rip it out and do it over. He wants to help, but he’s not a mind reader, how can he know exactly what her next move will be? He thinks he could build a suitable nest – he’s sure of it. But it has to be hers. She’s the one who’s going to sit there for days and days. He drops his offering nearby and softly chirps, so she’ll know it’s there. “Here, honey.” He feels useless. What if they’re the wrong kind of sticks? Sometimes he thinks he’ll build a nest from beginning to end, just to show her he could make one good enough for her and their children. He loves her so much. She chirps softly to him, distractedly, and he wonders what she meant. Did she say, “Thanks, honey?” Did she say, “Mmhmm?” Did she say, “Is that the best you can do?” He knows her- she wouldn’t say anything like that. Other birds- other kinds of birds noticed them. They loved their mates too, but everyone said no matter how long the cardinals were a pair, they always looked like they were courting. The way they were always together. How he’d go to feed first while she stayed hidden in the bushes, so he could check if it was safe. If it was the kind of food she liked. He’d eat a few bites to test it, flicking his tail and looking around, and if he thought it was good enough for his girl he’d bring her a seed or a nut and, beak to beak he’d feed her. The female purple finches looked on, then looked at each other, raising a pretty white eyebrow. They wondered- why won’t my mate do that for me? They forgot that they never had to feed the children after the nest, that was Daddy’s work. Of course, Mr. Cardinal fed his children all the time, too. That’s all he did, fly back and forth to feed his missus and the little ones. Until they got big enough to fly, that is, then Papa fed the boy and Mama fed the girl. The little girl grew up knowing she’d find a mate just as nice as her father, knowing she deserved it, and would get it.
And in the middle of the family outings, with all the work he had to do, still, if he found a particularly fat seed, or a berry, anything he knew she really liked, he’d fly over and feed his darling. The hummingbirds looked on and sighed. So romantic! Their husbands chased them away from the feeder – saying it belonged to them!
Mrs. Cardinal did not take this treatment for granted. She loved him every bit as much as he loved her, and she was secure in his lovingkindness. Mr. Cardinal sometimes worried he wasn’t doing enough, though he certainly was. She’d just get distracted, is all, building the nest, because she knew, she just knew exactly how it was supposed to be, and she wanted to finish it in time. She felt heavy and full. She missed her children from last year, and she couldn’t wait to see her new babies’ fluffy little faces, to snuggle in with their warm little bodies, to love them. She knew she was the luckiest bird in the world.
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