Bird’s Egg

So this afternoon Dos found a bird’s egg.


She came running up to us, so excited about the egg.


“It’s a baby bird, in an egg!” she shouted.  “Come see, come see, it’s a bird and it’s a baby and it’s an egg!”


Then she ran off into the trees.


We finished up and followed her trail.  When we got there we found her sobbing her restrained sobs.


For Dos, she has a few different types of cries.  There’s the howl, which usually takes place when she feels she’s been wronged by her sister.


There’s the high-pitched squeal, that’s what she does when she’s been caught doing something naughty and has a consequence.


Then there’s the worst type of her cries, a sob that she holds back in her chest with her mouth clamped shut.  When she cries that particular cry we know she’s experiencing her deepest emotion – pain or sorrow, that’s the cry that breaks my heart every time.


The heart-broken cry was what we found when we arrived underneath the tree.  She couldn’t talk, her mouth was clamped shut too tightly.


There was snot collecting along her upper lip and tears were shooting from her eyes like BBs.


I scooped her up and asked what was wrong.  After a bit of time she collected herself and said:


“I smooshed the egg!  I smooshed the baby bird in the baby egg!”  Sob, sob, gulp, gulp.  “I wasn’t watched where I was going and I stepped on the egg and smooshed it!”


Already emotional myself from her crying, my heart broke once more.  Because if there’s anything we consistently get on her about it’s not watching where she’s going.


Dos is a child of oblivion.  She grabs things off counters, stabs you with a pointy elbow, backs into walls… she seems to never pay attention to what she’s doing or have any premeditation for her actions.


And she stepped on the bird egg that had fallen from the nest.  The prize she so badly wanted to show to us was cracked open with a tiny bird body curled within the shell.


“Her momma is going to want to know where her baby egg is and I smooshed it!!” Dos wailed.  The projectile tears stopped but dripping tears were sliding down her cheeks in little paths of remorse.


Lizard and I were helpless.  I held Dos a little closer and Lizard asked if we could bury the egg.  She thought that would be ok.


We buried the egg under dirt and pine needles and I kept Dos close for a while longer.  Once the egg was out of sight she perked up.


“That momma won’t see the baby bird and she’ll think it flew away!” she decided.


I doubt she nailed that one on the head… but at least that momma bird won’t see her baby broken.  I don’t know if momma birds care for their babies the way humans care, I hope not.


So grateful this evening my “baby birds” aren’t “smooshed.”  And so in love with my little girl who cares so much about the world around her.

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