It's for the birds.

Apartment living has its perks as I have realized over the past couple of years. A friendly eighty year old man comes to unclog my garbage disposal when I drop in too many eggs and doesn't scold me despite his visit for a similar problem a few weeks before. I don't have a lawn to mow. Friends in the same complex are a short walk away. I am only 30 second walk away from a pool, and I have "free" access to a gym that I feel like I can tell myself I "go to" if I drop in a couple of times a month.

However, my previous two residences were rental houses, and there is one thing that I can't deny I miss. My apartment has a sizable patio, but it in no way can compare to having a yard. Yes, I love my porch bench and could sit there for hours, but a concrete slab doesn't stand a chance against a bed of grass flowers and trees. After I first moved into my apartment a couple of years ago, I purchased a slew of bulbs, potting soil, and clay pots to try to create my own "garden" on my concrete slab. However, before I opened the packages, I realized that my porch faced in a direction that received no direct sunlight. The tags on the plants I had chosen of course implied that my gardening attempts would fail without that ingredient. Discouraged, I took everything back to the store and put the idea on the back burner.

A couple of months ago, after I had a bad day, Jeff came over and told me he had something for me in his trunk. I waited upstairs and he brought up a beautiful fern for my porch, only one of the many many thoughtful things he has done for me that I don't deserve. He helped me hang it up, and my porch garden came back to light. He has since added sweet basil and citronella, which I am happy to say, unlike the bulbs I previously selected, love the shade my porch has to offer.

The next few days I sat outside on my bench eating breakfast and noticed that several house finches had taken a liking to the fern too. I didn't think much about it until I saw some twigs sticking out of the side of the plant when I went to water. Apparently, the house finches not only liked the fern, but decided to take up residence.

As soon as I realized there was a small nest nestled in my fern, I took every measure to learn all I could about house finches. Meaning, I googled. I love a google search. I learned what the male and females looked like, confirming that my flying house guests were indeed house finches. I learned about their nesting habits, incubation time of the eggs, and more than you probably care to hear. I'll stop.

The nest started with 3 eggs, and then the number grew to 5 overnight. A few days later, two eggs had gone missing. One more day and one of the remaining eggs was on the ground of my porch, and one had turned dark brown. This left one light blue, and from what I could gather, healthy egg.

Every morning, I pulled a kitchen chair out to the patio, watered the side of the fern opposite of the nest and checked for any change in the nest. A few days before I left for my vacation, when attempting to water, I saw something different. Instead of an egg, there was a pink little body covered in white fuzz. I was thrilled. I won't try to hide my excitement about the baby bird. I am writing a whole blog about it, so if you are judging me, it already happened a few paragraphs ago. I can take it.

A friend was sweet enough to water my fern for me for the week I was on vacation each day, even with my persistent instructions and warnings to not drown the baby bird in exchange for a bottle of vanilla from Mexico.

When I came home, the baby was still there to my surprise but had much more resemblance to it's parents. I continued to water on my patio each morning, surprised that the bird was still in the nest after a few weeks after hatching.

So continued my morning routine. Until Tuesday. Things got interesting. After I had poured half of the water into the plant, I heard a quiet chirp and the baby bird shot out of the nest and started flapping it's wings. It made a quick....descent to the ground, where it sat very still. Too still I thought.

Panic ensued. I was that kid. The mean one on the playground who pushes the toddler over when they are learning to walk (I hope no one really does that. I think I saw it in a movie once). Flying....walking...maybe this was a little different but at the moment it didn't feel like it. The momma bird flew to the nest looked in to see nothing and looked around before flying away. Great, now not only had I sent the baby to the ground away from its home, but also would be the cause of mother/child abandonment issues.

I walked downstairs and started climbing behind the bushes where the bird was sitting in the corner not moving. My next door neighbor walked up and asked me what I was doing (for good reason. It was 7:30 am and I was in the bushes in a dress) to which I responded with a panic filled explanation of what happened. She reminded me about the cats that wander around our building and recommended I go get some gloves to try to bring the baby home to it's nest on the 2nd floor.

I sent a text to my coworkers to let them know I would be late to work because I was trying to rescue a baby bird. One replied something about my "kind heart". She didn't know I was the one who had created the need for rescue in the first place. I didn't correct her.

After a quick trip upstairs and back down, I was sneaking around behind the bushes in a summer maxi dress, black fleece winter gloves and carrying a shoebox. More residents pulling out of the complex to go to work slowed down to look than I care to mention.

When I got close to the baby, to my surprise, it flew up and away. My rescue attempt was in vain. Thankfully. Nature took its course, the baby's instincts kicked in, and I was reminded once again that I can't control everything.

For a few weeks, I shared a small portion of my living space. I watched a finch build a nest and lay eggs and saw a baby bird the day after it was born. After weeks of waiting, I saw the baby bird fly away, in a more climactic ending than I would care to repeat, but still memorable and beautiful. 

This morning, the nest was empty and the momma bird was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she will be back to lay more eggs soon. Maybe not. Regardless, I think I need to invest in a long nosed watering can or a lengthening chain to reduce the need for the kitchen chair.

Unlike Tuesday, I got to work on time today. My shoebox and winter gloves are back where they belong. In the closet.

Maybe my neighbors will write off the site they saw as morning entertainment and never mention it, but if they do bring up my strange attire and mannerisms, I know what I will say. "It was for the birds."