What might have been

“Never look back unless you are planning to go that way.”
― Henry David Thoreau

(a lone tiny blue bird egg placed into the nest of a wren / Julie Cook / 2015)

Every day they came and went.
In and out
Day in and day out
Rain or shine
Relentless and driven


Upon each approach, deep within,
a loud din of chatter rose to a deafening crescendo. . .
Which would immediately cease upon each departure. . .

Were they or weren’t they. . .really inside?
Two came and two went
Yet the sound of many existed.
How many lived within?
How big have they grown?

And yet which is witnessed with all of life,
consistency and forever grow more and more elusive
The arrival of the quiet strange day proved just that

The zeal of activity was missing
Things had grown eerily quiet.
No flurry of the comings and goings
Emptiness hung in the air.

Oddly a cache of feathers was discovered nearby.
Had there been a struggle?
Had there been a violent encounter?
Were they the feathers of parent or child.
What had happened?
Had they all flown away?
Had they all made it?

Watching and waiting
There was nothing, no one
No one in
No one out
No sounds.
No clamoring
No singing

With trepidation and grave concern
Slowly and carefully
The door is painstakingly raised.
There is not a sound
No shrill peeps
No squeaking or jabbering
No yellow wide opened mouthes
No bulging eyes
No downy feathers.
Nothing but a lone, tiny blue egg. . .
and the myriad of question as to what might have been. . .

4 comments on “What might have been

  1. ColorStorm says:

    Good stuff jules-

    But your egg? Heck, I’m impressed with the genius of the simple nest………………………;)

    What might have been………….it’s a wonderful life………….

    • it is a wonderful life indeed CS 🙂
      I had watched the bluebirds for what seems forever–building the nest then ramping up the work once the eggs had hatched. They came and went to and from the box—but whenever I was outside pitting anywhere near the box, they were a bit more cautious to approach the box—but then that nervousness gave way to the constant clamoring from within—
      until yesterday. . .
      I had seen the dad that morning perched on the bird feeder and didn’t think anything of it as the feeders are near the box. I even had a mealy worm cake in the hanging feeder as the bluebirds love mealy worms—as they are big protein feeders—-but then I noticed a bunch of feathers under a bush near the feeders. I asked my all knowing naturalist husband if they were feathers of a bluebird or perhaps titmouse—he said bluebird and it didn’t look good for whomever the feather belonged—
      So I watched the box for quite sometime last evening and when I saw absolutely no action, I gingerly opened the hinged door—there wasn’t anything or anyone in the box but for the nest and one little egg that obviously, for whatever reason didn’t hatch—left me wondering why the one egg never hatched, had all the babies flown away, had a snake gotten in the box, or what—–hoping for the best!!!
      Yet you and I don’t necessarily need to hope for the best do we. . .for in our hearts, we know the Best!! 😉

  2. Well, the one egg is a very pretty egg and perhaps that’s all mama could produce this time around. Hugs from wet and soggy world. 🙂 ❤

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