Tuesday, June 12, 2012
My mother had a saying for nearly every occasion, repeated so often they became woven into the tapestry of my memories. "Thoughts go out into the cosmos and come back as action." That was her way of saying be careful what you wish for. True or not, I so regret complaining about the noisy baby birds down in the barn. Over the past week, one nest after the other has gone silent, building material scattered on the ground. It can't be the work of cats. Even if they were brave enough to go in with the goats, the nests were too close to the roof to give them room to maneuver. I can't imagine what night thing has done this. There are no feathers or parts left behind. I'd like to think the babies were old enough to fly off on their own, but I know better. The parents are mating again, desperate to propagate. If there are more hatchlings, I will never complain about those baby voices. The cosmos might hear me.