Our dog Cody is the one that discovered the nest. It was right in our front yard but not in plain sight. My husband Rich had taken the hanging basket of flowers off the lamp post, and placed in on the lawn, intending to give the flowers a good soaking. But Cody showed an especially strong interest in the basket, now that it was down at his level, sniffing it excitedly. And there they were, two tiny baby birds in a nest constructed in the middle of the flowers in the container.
I thought back, when did I put the basket there? It’s been over a month, and we’ve watered that plant since. How did the birds survive the drenching? I tried to get into the mind of the mother bird – this seemed such an odd place for a nest, yet, as far as keeping her little ones safe from ground animals like Cody, if people stay away or decide to help, this spot could work.
In early spring I remember seeing the remnants of nest building materials in the floral wreath on our front door. A few years back that had been the spot for a couple of eggs to hatch and grow safely into winged ones. (Once we found them, we avoided using the front door lest we disturb them). But this year this mama bird gave up on that location before completely her task and apparently settled on the flower basket about 10 feet away.
Looking at this mother bird’s efforts to protect her young reminds me of my journey and the journey of most women I know, to protect our offspring from fatal harm. My mind goes there most probably since this Friday is the summer solstice in our northern hemisphere; the anniversary of the day 22 years ago that my 31 year old son Kenneth died of AIDS. I couldn’t protect him from the health scourge of that generation brought on by the failure of health-care officials and politicians to act when the disease first came on the scene. And that likely occurred because the disease first appeared in the US in gay men.
Today there are even more ways for more mothers to join the club we would never choose to join – burying our children before their time. The front page of my Pittsburgh newspaper this morning shows an image of the mother of Antwon Rose II. It’s a year since a policeman shot her teenage son during a traffic stop, and her story connects with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of black and brown mothers who share her experience. Many mothers and their supporters gather together calling for changes in the law, increased police training, and criminal justice reform.
I see stories on TV and newspapers of children dying as a result of the opioid crisis including images of their broken-hearted mothers that demonstrate mounting evidence of our society’s failure to regulate the use of pain medications. And as Parkland School students and parents reflect on their first year of grief, there have been 31 school shootings. While schools and places of worship hold active shooter “duck and cover” drills, a movement of mothers is emerging.
Moms who have lost children to gun violence and those who fear that they could in the future are organizing to demand sensible gun laws. One organization Moms Demand Action
https://momsdemandaction.org/now has a list of nearly 5 million people signed up. There are 300,000 active volunteers—200,000 of whom have joined since the February 2018 school shooting in Parkland, Florida. These volunteers fan out to state legislatures every time a gun law comes up for a hearing or vote.
Like the mother bird in our front yard, we human mothers need lots of help protecting our young. As I dance on behalf of my son this Friday I will be remembering my sister moms, honoring the support we give one another one, and taking pride in the collective actions being taken so that fewer children of mothers coming after us will have their lives shortened and fewer moms will experience such unbearable pain.
What are you and the moms you know doing to make the world safer for our next generation of young people?
Sheila
