Life & Death In A Fallen Baby Robin

One morning after a heavy rainstorm, we saw an adult robin sitting on the ground. I wondered if it was hurt, so I went out to check. As I got within 20 feet of her, she flew away — leaving a wet young robin not fully feathered.

Not touching the baby, I leaned down and took a picture to study its status. Baby called for its mother then pressed itself to the ground trying to become invisible.

For the next half hour, Carol and I intermittently watched from the kitchen. Mama and papa bird took turns checking on the little one and trying to feed it, but baby wouldn’t open its beak. It was crippled from bouncing off the branches and hitting the hard earth as it fell from its home 18 feet up in the tree, and most likely had mortal injuries.

Why did the little one leave the nest? Did it think it was ready for the flight test? Did it jump for joy when mama brought food, and fall out? Due to mama and papa’s concern, I knew they didn’t kick it out.

Or was it a heavy wind that hit our neighborhood? Ah, that’s it. There were twigs and sprigs of pine needles laying around, but no eggshells and no other babies; so either this was an only child or the others managed to fly away.

Here comes mama again with a wiggling worm in her beak. Touching down within a few feet from baby, mama offered the morsel to the fledgling, but to no avail.

“Precious, I’m not sure baby’s going to make it.”

“Give it a half hour then check it again.”

“Okay.” And I resumed my writing project.

Time flies when you’re having fun, or busy writing, and I forgot about the crash-landing in the back yard. I returned to the present when I heard, “Have you checked baby recently?” “No, but I will now.” Looking out the window, I didn’t see mama or papa; and baby was perfectly still, so I went outside to check. Ants had already found the lifeless form, and a pesky fly was circling. Baby was in the path from the house to my office, so I picked it up by the beak and placed it at the side of the yard.

For about an hour, mama or papa robin came frequently with a worm to where baby had been. Hopping around the crash-landing site, the parent diligently searched for the young one. I don’t know if birds feel emotion, but it seems that these robins felt sad.

Just then a strong gust of wind hit the yard, and the empty nest — accompanied with the small branch that had held it — fell to the ground. Mama found the nest, checked it over, hopped or walked around for a few minutes, then left for good. I felt sad for mama robin.

The next day we went on a day-trip around northeastern Oklahoma. Hundreds of cattle were out in the fields, and we saw many deer among the trees. The babies revealed a sense of security alongside their mothers, and the mothers manifested love and satisfaction as they tended their calves and fawns.

Thinking back on the mama robin: she must have experienced pain after losing at least one baby; and that reminded me of when our mama dog showed anguish when her pups died.

God instilled love, concern, and dedication for life into humans and many animals. Mothers — from cats to cows, dogs to dolphins, birds to buffaloes, and humans of every ethnic background — care for their young, and will go to great extent to protect the newborn. Some animals, and most humans, would give their lives to protect their young.

The Bible reveals the great love that God, himself, has for his creation. Matthew 10:29b tells us, “But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.” And Romans 8:35-39 explains how nothing can separate us from the love God has for us.

The primary method of returning God’s love to him is found in Matthew 22:3739. “Jesus replied, ‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

Even though we experience pain, we can still live a full and satisfying life if we live according to Jesus’ words.