Baby birds are showing up at the backyard feeder. All summer their Moms and Dads have been scouring the yard for seeds and bugs to keep them all fed. It’s amazing how something so small can eat so much and make such a racket. A little while ago they hatched out in the Japanese maple, the redbud by the boat, and the tack shelf in the barn as pink little newborns with downy fuzz sticking straight up. Anytime their parents got anywhere near them, they’d open their gaping mouths and scream for food. You could hear them cheep every couple of minutes from before sunrise to dark.

Now after tens of thousands of feedings in a few short weeks they’ve grown feathers and have flown out of the nest — sort of. They’re almost the size of adults, but you can tell them apart because of their scruffy plumage and the way they follow their parents around shaking their wings and demanding food like adolescents do.

They’re pretty clueless as well, but the cat hasn’t even tried to stalk them. She’s been cussed and dive-bombed by the Mockingbirds so much lately that she’s keeping a low profile under the porch and won’t attempt a daylight lawn crossing. Momma and Daddy birds are fearless. I’ve seen them harass four foot long chicken snakes and swoop on our Great Dane if she moseys too close to a nest.

I tried being a Daddy bird once when I was ten years old and a baby barn swallow hopped up to our patio. I spent the better part of the next week hunting grasshoppers and crickets in the grass and trying to teach that bird to fly. That three ounce bird wore me out. No matter how much I fed him, whenever he saw me he screamed for more.

I thought of that barn swallow not long ago when I drove by Ci Ci’s and my own baby bird cheeped from the back seat. We pulled in, piled a plate full of barbecue pizza and bread sticks, and popped them into his open mouth while he watched cartoons (poor kid doesn’t get much TV at home, so that’s quite a treat).

Like all baby birds, ours came into the world as a pink little newborn with fuzz on top and completely turned our world upside down. The first thing I did when the nurse placed him in my arms was promise to give him the best life any boy ever had, and I meant it. For the first time in my life I knew what it meant to truly love someone else more than yourself.

Every feeding, every poop, and every nap was discussed in earnest as we tried to make sure we did everything as perfectly as we could. My wife and I were in baby world like you read about, and I’ve never been happier. We noticed every cute detail, told complete strangers how much he weighed, and proudly wore spit-up stains on our church clothes while silently thinking, “It’s probably my turn to hold him now.”

But now his feathers are growing out way too fast, and all too soon he’ll fly out on his own. That first tooth that popped through his gum six years ago came out yesterday. He watched my face anxiously while I called the Tooth Fairy to arrange last night’s pick-up and showed the new gap in his smile when I gave him the thumbs up. And the excitement on his face this morning when there was a buck under his pillow was worth a hundred time’s what it cost.

I’ve had the chance to travel the world and do things that most folks only dream about. But if there’s anything that comes even close to being a Dad, I haven’t seen it yet.



Craig Ziemba is a military pilot who lives in Meridian. His book, Give War a Chance is available at Meridian Bible Bookstores.