The story of an inconvenient nest

A natural by-product of purchasing older buildings to renovate and turn them into something the family can be proud of is seemingly the never-ending supply of wild birds. When our family began the process of cleaning up an older roadside motel, we were shocked at the number of birds which had decided to call the eaves, trees, and wires attached to the building their home. In a symbolic form of resistance, each of our attempts to repair the holes or scare off the flock brought with it an epic battle of sorts, with the birds making it evident that their claim would be fought for and if we were going to succeed in removing them, we would surely know they were there and have a story to tell.

I recall the year we boarded up all the holes created by the birds. For one day, I stood with pride, gazing upon the bird-free creation I had made and sighed a sigh of relief that those destructive creatures were gone. As I looked closer, in the distance, I saw a sight which would truly strike fear in any human’s soul. Surrounding the property, perched upon the power lines were seemingly hundreds of birds peering intently downwar, upon me like warriors preparing for a secondary offensive. Quietly, yet stealthily I decided that it was time to go inside to ensure I was not the leading character in a “The Birds 2” saga, made for television.

Interestingly enough, the birds did carry out their horrid plan of retaliation the following day. As I left the building, I noticed that the ground surrounding a large oak tree stationed directly outside the office doorway was rattled with remnants of bird by-products and the tree was full of the little critters, all screeching warnings, or laughing with each other, as I dodged the gifts they sent from above. Over time, the mess was cleared up and the birds simply moved back to the rear of the property creating new holes to perch upon.

Last summer, my beautiful wife decided that a certain hanging plant caught her eye and would look great directly outside the office door. Agreeing, I went about the task of hanging the plant, taking a moment to admire my handiwork once I was done. The next day I simply had to laugh as I walked outside and noticed that overnight, a bird had erected a fully functional nest deep within the confines of my wife’s prided hanging plan. Later that day, as I showed her the nest, we observed that a single blue egg lay in the nest. Then two, three, and finally four eggs. Not being happy about the nest, my wife quickly decided that even though she didn’t like the idea of it being there, the fact that eggs were present would ensure the nests existence at least for one year.

The little nest proved to be a true life lesson for our family and guests of the motel. As the girls, Leona and I watched the life cycle of the birds we found great enjoyment. Likewise, the nest and its inhabitants became a visual reminder of how the little things in life can bring a smile to faces and even soften the heart of the biggest, gruffest men when watching babies grow. Our guests loved the birds as did we and we quickly forgot about our earlier battles, centering on the joy of life. Today a mural hangs in the office which depicts the life and growth of our little bird babies. A constant reminder that sometimes our sacrifices, in the end, add joy to not only us personally but likewise to those who are joining us through this journey called life. Understanding that through battles we can find solace is a key to carrying on, as we experience things which initially may seem to be negative but end up teaching us the true value of life.

Richard J. Stephens lives in Carter County and is the father of three little ladies ranging in age from eight to 29.