The “beneath-the-tractor-seat-babies” now have brown feathers. They are beginning to look like sparrows and should soon (hopefully) be leaving the nest (barring any encounters with snakes).

“But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky, keeps great and small on the endless round, It’s the circle of life…” – Elton John, “Circle of Life”

I’m a sucker for Disney Movies and, as my family will attest, I also love a Disney soundtrack. The lyrics from those songs stay with you, perhaps because they usually contain a great message.

With this thought in mind, I didn’t find it strange in the least that after a recent snake encounter on our screened porch I found myself humming along to the lyrics of “Circle of Life” from Disney’s “The Lion King.”

Last year, a house sparrow built a nest in the rafters above the ceiling fan on the open side of our back porch. I left the nest there over the winter, and this year the sparrow returned to nest again.

Every morning and evening after the birds hatched, I would listen from the kitchen as they chirped for their mother to return with food. Then one afternoon when I went to get a cup of food for the goats, I noticed that the hatchlings were silent.

It seemed far too early for the newborns to have left the nest and as I pondered that notion, I began to think about what could have happened. My immediate thought, only because I’ve seen it happen a few times over the years, was that a snake of some sort had robbed the nest. However, I quickly put that idea out of my mind and headed off to feed and water the goats.

G and I were planning to work outside that weekend doing a little late “spring cleaning.” This process always comes a bit later at our house as all but the most necessary projects are delayed until after the end of turkey season. This includes the first mowing of the season and, usually, by the time that I get to that first clipping it looks as if I’m about to bale hay.

That Sunday afternoon we were cleaning the screened porch and had just finished moving out all the furniture so we could wash everything. I was removing the cobwebs from the rafters and had just stepped onto the steps to the house when I caught sight of something in my peripheral vision that didn’t belong—a snake!

I knew immediately why the baby sparrows had fallen silent. Unfortunately, G saw the snake almost as soon as I did. In an effort to keep her calm (let’s just say she’s not a fan of “Mr. No Shoulders”), I asked her to run to Nana’s house to get a hoe. I really didn’t need the hoe, but I knew that was my best chance to keep G, our trio of dogs, and Louis the Cat calm.

As I climbed to the top step to get a better look at the perpetrator, I could now clearly see what had happened to the birds. The chicken snake was perfectly symmetrical with the one exception of his swollen center section.

He had feasted in the nest and then crawled along the rafters looking for a place to exit the porch. However, his newly acquired girth wouldn’t allow that to happen. I used the handle of my shovel to dislodge the serpent from the rafter and then removed it from the screened porch.

Honestly, I struggled with the decision over what to do with the snake. As a rule, I let non-poisonous snakes be, choosing to coexist as they serve a key role in our little circle of life by eating mice and other critters. However, I draw the line at those serpents that eat baby birds nesting near my backdoor and hang around to digest them on my screened porch. Furthermore, I didn’t want G packing her bags to move because I had only relocated it to the woods.

A few weeks later, while climbing on the tractor to pick up limbs that had fallen in a recent storm, I noticed a tuft of pine straw sticking out from underneath the seat. When I lifted the seat for inspection, a sparrow darted out and my eyes were drawn to a tiny nest filled with four brown-speckled eggs.

Needless to say, my speed on the tractor that day was snail-like. Since then, I’ve monitored the eggs daily and am happy to report that we now have four healthy baby sparrows—fingers crossed they continue to thrive.

I find it interesting, but not surprising, that, since moving to the farm, I feel much more connected to the circle of life on a physical, emotional and spiritual level.

As a result, my thoughts on hunting and what it means to take an active part in the circle by taking a life have certainly changed. The level of respect and appreciation for the deer, turkeys, and fish that I have taken here increases with each passing season, as does the sense of loss that I feel with their passing.

In the words of author John Gierach, “I never had second thoughts, but my happiness was leavened by the sting of regret you inevitably feel when you kill your own food instead of leaving the chore to someone else. You can’t help but wonder what the light in its eyes was and where it went so suddenly.”

Until next time, here’s to grappling with the realities of this great circle of life.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.