Little Miracles

Little miracles happen around the Little Farm every day. The trees, the flowers, the wildlife, our domestic critter crew ... there is always something fascinating happening here at any given time. I get so focused on my daily "must-dos" that I often miss a lot of these special moments. But today, I got to witness one of them when I saw the miracle of life come full circle.

We have a sweet, little pair of purple finches who built a nest on our front porch this spring. Mrs. Finch began building "the nursery" in April. Mr. Finch would try to help, but I could tell she was running the construction project. He would add a twig or a piece of grass, and she would either tear it out and drop it on the ground or move it to some other part of the nest. It seems fitting that she should get her way because once the nest was completed, Mrs. Finch was the one who had to lay the five eggs and then incubate them for two weeks through wind, rain, heat, and cold. Mr. Finch would check in on her every once in awhile, and he would sing her the most beautiful songs. But after these short visits, he was free to go about his business in the great wide open while she nurtured the tiny, stirring miracles just beneath the five speckled egg shells.

The eggs hatched about two weeks ago, and it was a joyous occasion. For the first few days, Mrs. Finch would stand on the side of the nest, cock her little head, and look at the squirming, pink things inside with the gaping mouths. I wonder what she was thinking. Mr. Finch would perch on our lamp post and sing proudly. I bet I know what he was thinking.

The babies grew quickly, and finding and delivering food became a round-the-clock mission for the new mother and father. Mrs. Finch stayed in the nest at night for the first week to keep the babies warm. After that, she and Mr. Finch roosted in the nearby spruce tree where they could keep their eyes on anything coming or going around the porch.

Over the weekend, I watched as the babies began grooming themselves and stretching their wings. They were almost as big as their parents and had full feathers. I knew they'd be ready to leave soon. I checked on them yesterday morning, and all of them were gone expect for one. He was smaller than the rest--maybe the last to hatch--and he looked so forlorn and lonely. Mom and Dad would stop by every hour or so to feed him, but most of their attention was focused on feeding his four siblings in the spruce tree. I looked outside every few hours expecting to see an empty nest, but at nightfall, he was still there.

When I checked on him this morning, he was perched on the side of the nest flapping and stretching his wings. I could hear his parents calling to him from the trees. He would get back in the nest, then climb out, then get back in again. Mom and Dad would come and talk to him, urging him back up on the edge. Finally--about an hour ago--I just happened to look out the window as he launched himself out of the nest, into the open sky, and onto a spruce limb. He took a huge leap of faith into the great, big world, and Mom and Dad were waiting with a meal and some reassuring chatter. I'm a sentimental sap, but it brought tears to my eyes.

Such a small miracle in the grand scheme of things, but a blessing all the same ...