Leaving the nest…
Five years ago, the youngest fledgling left the nest just as baby robins did likewise in our backyard
It’s that time of year when nervous parents ship their adolescent children off to college and university.
And this morning my (dreaded) FB feed reminds me that five years ago today, Louis’ move into residence was noisy and emotional.
At the time it was interesting to compare the experience with that of the family of birds that had taken up residence in our backyard.
A pair of Robins built a nest in the deck above our walkout porch that summer. Despite the constant threat of dive-bombing, Sue bravely weeded the nearby garden (or was she just bringing in the empties?) and bore witness to the raising of the two resident babies.
Making constant runs for food and keeping an eye out for our ruthless cat, Squirt, the robin parents were noisy, emotional, and supremely dedicated as they prepared their offspring for independence.
And while the birds performed their duties, I simultaneously took a step towards the independence of Louis, the youngest fledgling, moving him into college residence.
It was a hectic day. Emotional mothers and fathers, noisy siblings, and excited students carried articles, symbolizing both the comforts of home and budding autonomy, into the dormitories.
I couldn’t help but take notice of the parallels and differences between this scene and that of our squatting feathered friends.
According to Hinterland Who’s Who, young robins are fed by both parents who tirelessly do the birdie drive-thru an average of 35 to 40 times a day. Those of you who have raised teenagers can relate to this monstrous level of caloric intake.
It’s interesting to note that the parents keep the nests clean by consuming the chicks’ fecal sacs. In the trials and tribulations of rearing my teenagers, I can attest to being faced with comparable duties. My only lesson in this disagreeable kind of gastronomy is that it is a dish best shared...
When the moment came for our robin parents to push their fledglings from the nest, there was no hesitation. After 13 days, the father and two youngsters took the leap and bounced around our back yard. All the while, Squirt the cat groaned in annoyance from the other side of the patio screen door.
Don’t be fooled. Squirt’s a killer.
The young robins usually remain in the parents’ territory for three weeks and become independent at four weeks. It’s a high-risk journey, however, as only about 25% make it through to the autumn of their first year.
A growing number of human parents are becoming ambivalent about their children leaving the nest. Statistics Canada released a study indicating that the number of Canadians aged 20 to 29 living with their parents has nearly doubled since 1981 to a whopping 42%. (Statistics Canada, Diversity of young adults living with their parents)
The robin simply knows when its time to push. There is no grey zone. Learn to fly quick and survive. Be a slow-learner and Squirt’s your lunch date.
For us humans, there remains this nagging question – and no matter the time spent reflecting upon it or consulting family, friends and professionals – you are never 100% sure you have the right balance. We let loose and hold tight, staying far from the graceful (yet brutal) certainty of our feathered friends.
For the most recent generation that was raised on participation ribbons and self-esteem exercises, “survival of the fittest” is not how they see the world. Are these college Gen Z’s coddled? Perhaps. But they do have a respect for differences and diversity that we did not. They listen to each other better than we ever did and their ability to collaborate to make better decisions eclipses that of my generation.
I happen to be optimistic and look forward to the influence this generation will have - because, come to think of it - it takes a team to outwit predators like Squirt the cat.
