In 2009, Amy and I received a birdhouse with the Auburn University logo decorating the roof. We moved this house to Oklahoma and to Georgia. A decorative item that never housed birds.
During the global pandemic, two blue birds moved into the house. Through our kitchen window, we watched mom and dad bring sticks and grass and string and pine straw into the nest. Later, they came with insects and grubs. The sounds of the babies calling for more, more, more. Sometimes our family would eat dinner on the back porch near the house, see mom and dad watching us from a nearby tree, and the whole Rifenburg family, before finishing their dinner, would head inside to give mom and dad space to be mom and dad.
During the global pandemic, the neighborhood tomcat broke into the birdhouse.
I woke first, opening the kitchen blinds, and saw the destruction. The babies in pieces all over our deck. With tears, I buried them before the family awoke. Amy awoke and noticed before I could tell her; I sincerely believe her mom intuition told her something was array as she generally doesn’t notice the coming-and-going of wildlife outside our window. I was in the garage getting in my morning exercise. She opened the garage door to see me, tears on display. We are waiting to tell the kids. I buried the little ones next to our newly established picnic table in our backyard.
We all move on in these challenging times.
Walking to the mailbox last night, I saw a babyblue colored shape, the size of a peanut M&M. I bent down, knowing already what it was. A robin egg. The shell partially cracked open. I could see the still baby inside. The crack exposed the face of the baby—the yellow beak, the yet-unopened eyes, the watery feathered head.
I reached out to pick it up. My wife’s voice in my head telling me about germs. So I hesitated. But followed through, picking it up, feeling it almost come apart in my hand, laying it in the grass and off the hard sidewalk trampled by feet and bikes and dogs and scooters.
I made my way to our mailbox, grabbed the electric bill, and headed home.
We all move on in these challenging times.
J. Michael Rifenburg 