Right outside our kitchen window, in the hedge, was a nest with two little baby pigeons. We saw them every day, worried for them when we didn’t see their Mama for a little while, were happy for them when she came back to feed them. We heard them flap their wings and apologised when the wind changed and barbeque smoke was blown in their direction.
For a few days I kept a camera ready and checked on them every so often . I didn’t want to miss them learning to fly.
But then one day last week when it was still bright and warm, I put Kaya down for his nap, and when I came back downstairs they were gone. An empty nest.
I was disproportionally sad.
I still look up every time I go outside, out of habit.
How is it going to be when my baby leaves the nest? I suppose I’ll have a few more years to prepare for that. I’ll think about it then.
For now, I look up when a pigeon flies by, and think it might be one of our babies.