"MOMMY! I FOUND A HUMMINGBIRD NEST! AND THERE'S A MAMA!"
I did. Drop everything. And ran out to the back garden with her, and there, on the Magnolia tree, is a tiny, perfect nest. And there flitting in and out of the dark green leaves, is a very nervous mama bird, agitated beyond compare that her little babies have attracted so much attention.
The nest is high, and at a terrible angle; we cannot easily see into it. So for awhile, we don't know if there are any occupants yet. She asks if she can stack a step stool on top of a rolling ice chest, so she can climb up and peek in. I say no. She asks if she can climb the tree. I say no. For the sake of the mama-bird.
Finally, we figure it out. We wait for the mama to flit away for a moment, and then I stand on top of the step stool with her in my arms, and hoist her as far up as I can.
She cranes her neck, pushes against me to get ever closer, and is rewarded by seeing two tiny eggs, no bigger than jelly beans.
She spends the next two hours watching the nest, keeping tabs on where the mama is at all times, sometimes sitting on the eggs, sometimes flitting away for a few moments.
She doesn't even want to go on an errand with me. She NEVER doesn't want to go on car rides with me.
Such is the power of little white, jelly-bean sized eggs. Such is the power of hummingbirds.
And great is the joy of my daughter.
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