This morning Earl said, "I think there's a bird at the window."
"No," I said. "It's the sprinkler."
But no, there was a baby blue jay attempting to fly against the glass of the bedroom window.
He'd take a moment's break to sit on the stone ledge under the window and then he'd try again, pushing his beak against the glass. Never seeing the big back garden right behind him. A parent perched in a tree watching.
Finally the baby bird turned and flew to the trunk of a paper plant. He began to climb the trunk, making little jumps upward.
"Where is Farrell?" I asked.
"He's outside," said Earl.
I rushed to the garden door and called for this big orange cat. He came quickly, but he also suddenly saw movement by the bedroom window. I charged out the door stark naked and grabbed him. Farrell will spend the day in the house.
That little bird's parents have guarded against Farrell for weeks. Every time I let the cat out the kitchen door, the bird parents, very noisily, descend from the trees to monitor his movements. I do not want their offspring to become Farrell's prey.
Earl is now out watering the potted plants and the monkey grass I planted in the ravine. He says the little blue jay is out there on the neighbor's lawn. This is not good. May the little one survive Easter Day. Get thee to the tree tops.
What a lovely Easter gift to see this little bird's attempts to learn to fly. A better gift if he survives the spring.