I still think of that bird . . .

For at least a week she had harassed me.  Flapping her wings in an effort to keep me away from the tree that overhung the driveway. Someone had to explain to me that she was probably protecting her nest. I just thought she was a nasty bird. I didn't know a lot about nature. Still don't. 

This bird was pretty annoying. I had to walk about twenty yards from my front door to the car and that brought me seriously close to her nest. Looking back on it, I should have backed the car in. That would have allowed me to put some distance between the tree and me. Maybe she wouldn't have swooped and squawked so much.

Then one morning when I opened my front door, she was waiting, standing on the rock that was my front step. I can still see her standing there. Not angry but somehow upset. She chirped. Not a happy chirp, but a sad sound, a plaintive sound. I had no idea what she wanted or what she wanted me to do.

Fruitlessly, I talked to her in a calm voice asking her what the problem was.  She followed me to the car, not harassing me but flying quietly, beseeching me. I had no idea what to do. I could only guess that something was amiss in her nest.
 
I didn't have a ladder or any idea what to do when I got up in the tree. At the time, I didn't know to try the town's animal control. 

I still think about that bird, that mother. I know given the lifespan of a bird, she would be long gone.  But I still feel bad. I understood.  I tried to be kind, but I didn't know how to help. It still pains me that I let her down.