Caring - Feathered or Not

 

"I don't want to make a bird out of a pine cone!" Arriving for the morning's nature study, this rambunctious ten-year-old boy had seen the projects of the six to eight- year-olds strewn about on the table and grass. Those children had chosen a cone, colored and glued on paper wings and bills, and then formed a nest of twigs, grass, moss, dog fur, and - in some cases - mud for it to "nest" in. He did not want to do what the younger kids had done. Of course not.

 "Don't worry," I assured him, "we won't be making any birds." He and his age-mates gathered around as I brought out the various birds' nests that I have collected over the years. Passing them around the circle, I explained how each bird carefully constructs a nest for its young using whatever materials are available that suits it. We had looked at pictures of birds likely to be found in our area and talked about where those nests might be built. Some are high up in trees, made of small branches and added on to year after year; some are found in holes which the birds peck into dead trees, hollowing out a space just big enough for the nest and nestlings. Others are built in low shrubs or on the ground in such a way that they are camouflaged from all but the most observant.  Indeed - the lives of their young depend on it.

"I don't want to make a bird... or a mud nest, either." He was adamant and the others looked as if they might agree. "You don't have to - that's what the younger kids did. You're all older, so we'll do something different - out in the woods." The eyes rolled and the questions started, but I learned long ago that enthusiasm and mystique only add to a learning experience, so plowed on. "You'll see - you'll be constructing something..."

The overall theme of the week was "Under Construction" with a sub-theme each day. We would be delving into how a community shares, cares, worships, and celebrates. My intent was to tie these into nature studies.

 

 

 

 

We had looked into how ants share within their anthill and on this day were learning how hard birds work to care for their young - even before any eggs are laid. And we humans? It definitely takes effort, and sometimes sacrifices, to care for each other. We talked about the ways in which we can show that we do care for others.

 

 

Each child chose a rock and then we were off to the woods. A short ways in they were given their challenge: to pretend their rock was a bird, explore and choose what they thought was a good spot for a nest, construct the nest using whatever they could find, and make sure that their "bird" fit in the nest. Oh - and one more thing. They were each given a simple pair of tongs to use during some of the construction. Birds don't have hands with fingers and thumbs, you know.

 

 

Later, as I related this experience to the mom of that particular boy, she told me of his reaction to this activity. He came out of the woods, sought her out, and exclaimed: "Mom, come see the nest that I made!" While I care deeply about all of the children that I interact with, it's not always easy to get through to them. I have to say - that one statement pretty much made my day!

 

Even the sparrow finds a home,

and the swallow a nest for herself,

where she may lay her young,

at your altars, O LORD of hosts,

my King and my God.

Psalms 84: 3

 

 

Selling their possessions and goods,

they gave to anyone as he had need.

Acts 2:45

Easter Eggs

Excitement built as I watched the bowls being set out - three, four, five - until there were at least six. Then water and a spoonful of vinegar were added to each, and finally the small aspirin-sized tablets, which slowly dissolved and bled out in the most brilliant colors of red, blue, yellow, orange, green and purple. mom brought out the carton of hard-boiled eggs and I set about creating masterpieces. The first six were easy - one of each color - but after that there were decisions to be made. How could I best combine more than one color on an egg? What should I draw or write with the colorless wax crayon that would repel the color on the egg's shell? How long I left the egg in determined how dark the color and experimentation was part of the fun. Sometimes the results were dazzling; usually not, but I always wished for more than the dozen I was allotted.

The hunts were another thing. Before I ever went to one, I remember hearing of them and I'm sure made known, as children are wont to do, that I really wanted to experience such a marvelous, challenging activity. One year, my oldest sister took me to the large public one held in a downtown city park. To me, "hunt" meant exactly that, and required a certain skill and tenacity to successfully find the hidden treasures. What disappointment I felt when we finally arrived to see the lawn littered with colored eggs and to find that the hunt was really a stampede and over in a matter of minutes. Being shy and unassertive put me at a definite disadvantage, and I decided that Easter egg hunts weren't all they were cracked up to be.

But in the home of my childhood, Easter morning was a sheer delight. There was a special basket filled with candy and a stuffed toy. And because Montana springs were always cold, and often snowy, there was a real hunt for the many small nests, skillfully hidden throughout the house with tiny candy eggs in each one. Months later, someone would likely find one or two of these nests that had escaped detection. I had no idea then why eggs appeared at Easter - I only knew I liked that they were a part of our tradition.

In many ancient cultures, eggs were a common symbol of new life and immortality; in Egypt, Greece, Italy, and Persia, they were dyed for spring festivals. In medieval times, Christians adapted the egg to their own religious devotions by giving up the eating of them during Lent, then giving beautifully decorated ones as gifts on Easter morning as a symbol of joy and celebration.

Today, in most countries eggs are stained with plain vegetable-dye colors. Syrian and Greek faithful present each other with crimson eggs in honor of the blood of Christ. Ukrainians create intricate designs with checkerboard and rhombi patterns, dots, wavy lines, and intersecting ribbons. Blessed by the priest at Easter, these artistically-rendered eggs become symbolic heirlooms. Austrian artists design striking patterns by fastening ferns and tiny plants around the eggs, leaving a white pattern after they are dyed.

Romans believed that "All life comes from an egg." Christians came to consider eggs to be "The seed of life" and so they are - even today - symbolic of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13

Precisions of the Season

Make no mistake, they are precisely wrought. One is of dried grass, woven ‘round and ‘round into a neat, compact, cup shape. The center depression is lined with short, fine, white hairs - perhaps from some neighboring dog or goat. The second is more raggedy, made of small twigs, dry plant stems, fine pieces of bark, and a couple of strands of yarn. Its center hole is lined also, with what seems to be wool, dryer lint, or insulation and some grey, downy feathers. I have nestled them into small baskets for safe keeping, bringing them out of storage each spring as a reminder of the wonders of this season.

The raggedy one contains its original 5 small eggs. I committed no crime against nature, here. My sister, finding the nest abandoned and knowing of my passion for wild things, offered it to me - eggs & all. We carefully carried it all the way back from Montana that summer.

I gingerly remove one of the eggs and set it on the table. Smooth and white, with a spattering of dark speckles at the wider end, it tapers down at the other. As I tap it gently, one reason for its shape becomes clear. It spins where it lies. Eggs of cliff-nesting birds are more tapered still and, if jostled, roll in a circle - no chance of rolling off. Perfect design.

The shell in the other nest does not belong there, I just put it in for display. Sky-blue, it is obviously a robin’s, but the nest is much too small for that bird. Even now, after several years, the two pieces remain mostly intact, held together by a tough inner membrane. With more than one layer, an egg shell offers “flow-through” support and protection to the precious life inside. I found this shell on the ground, where the mother had dropped it after her young had hatched, for it was no longer needed.

Once we had a pair of geese. The female laid eggs, but she was a confused mother. She laid so many, that when she finally decided to set there was no way she could cover them all. She tried, warming & turning the eggs for weeks on end, but hatching none. Finally, I shooed her off and threw the rotten eggs at tree trunks faaaaaaar away from the house. Each one exploded loudly as it hit its mark.

My solution was to buy an incubator, collect the next eggs, & become a surrogate “mother goose”. Being one takes time & commitment. The eggs need to be kept at a certain temperature and humidity, turned several times a day, & “candled” to be sure they are developing. We used a strong flashlight for the candling and how exciting it was to watch the embryos develop from tiny red spots to turning, squirming nearly full-grown goslings! Hatching time arrived right on schedule & we kept close watch as each tiny babe used its egg tooth to peck a hole, then laboriously peck around the shell until it was finally free. New life rested near cast-off shells.

And so I keep these nests, and others like them - reminders, precisely wrought.

Therefore, if any one is in Christ,
he is a new creation;
the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.
All this is from God...
2 Corinthians 5.17-18