Every spring, when the weather gets a little warmer, we open the windows
each morning and wake up to the songs being sung by a variety of birds. It is quite beautiful. And every spring these same birds build beautiful, well- designed nests in our trees. The nests are incredibly strong and can withstand the strongest of Wyoming winds. They are a remarkable engineering achievement.
SAVING BABY BIRDS
Of course, as spring turns into summer the birds lay eggs, and not long after we find there are adorable baby birds in the nests. Our Goldendoodle, Willy Nelson finds this fascinating. He will just stare at the nest and the birds for hours. Unfortunately, when the babies leave the nest, they are not good flyers and Willy Nelson wants to play with them as they are hopping around learning to fly. We do not think Willy Nelson means them any harm (we fully realize this may just be our fantasy), but in his excitement to play, he injures the baby birds, and they soon die.
For the last three years I have tried to keep this small tragedy from happening. I have kept Willy Nelson on a leash, even in his own yard. I have built fences around the nest and the trees they are in so the birds would have a protected area as they learn to fly. I have spent more time and money than is reasonable. Yet with all that I have done and can think to do, I cannot keep the baby birds alive.
This year I decided, rather than deal with the sadness of picking up dead birds, I would just destroy their nests before they became home to the birds. Currently there are two birds who are building a nest under our awning and every day I tear it down. I wish they would just go somewhere else where it is safer. Yesterday I
found a nest in the tree that was further along in its construction. In fact, when I took it down, I discovered I was too late; there was already an egg inside.
LIVING IN A “SAVED” WORLD
I feel awful when I tear down the nests. I feel like I am just like Hitler or Stalin with no regard for life. It is possible I am mentally ill or overly sensitive. However, it is also possible that I wasn’t made for this world. C.S. Lewis famously said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” I think that what I desire more than anything is to live in a world of peace. A world where all people, and animals of every kind, can live together and enjoy one another. I want to live in a world where “there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)
As I have said, it is possible that I am mentally ill; I don’t want to dismiss that idea too fast. However, is it possible that as I draw near to God, and imagine a perfect world, a world without sin, I look insane to others who have never contemplated a world without sin?
I really don’t know how to make sense of the awful feeling I have tearing down nests or picking up dead birds. The only options I see is that I was not made for this world, or I am crazy. Of course, it could be a little of both.
