Well, we’ve lost another set of baby house finches. I am so heart-broken. On Wednesday, I watered all the plants on the porch, and Mama Finch was there. She flew away when I watered the fern her nest was in, but she came back a few minutes later. I could hear the little guys chirping, so I knew they were fine.
The next day, Pete told me that one of the babies had fallen out of the nest. He put him or her back into the nest, noting that the two other little guys seemed fine. Then on Friday, I wanted to see how they were doing, being somewhat concerned that one had fallen out. I wanted to make sure he was OK. When I looked in the nest, there were two little birds, both dead. I burst into tears. Over the weeks, I became quite fond of my little family, watching their progress, talking to Mama and Papa Finch whenever I saw them.
The birds were buried in our garden with some words of love. I’ve heard Mama and Papa this morning. They sounded sad, like me.
If anyone has any suggestions or thoughts, please let me know. I understand that this is what happens in nature; that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Until next time.