There’s a bird nest on our front porch. A sparrow has moved into our door wreath with a beautiful nest made of grass, and last night she laid four little bluish eggs. She sits there framed by crocuses and forsythia.
I have roped off the front porch and masking-taped our door closed from the inside. The mailman has to put our mail in a bucket half way down the driveway, and everyone is warned to stay away — enter the house only through the garage.
Everyone, that is, except Bo. He just can’t remember why the door’s shut, why the rope is out front, and can’t even seem to understand the idea that the nest is out there.
I’m so excited about the nest because I love nature, but I can see that it may be a very stressful month monitoring the door. There’s tape over the lock, the handle and the extra chain. And the entire opening is sealed with tape. Yesterday, Bo was cursing at the door as he tried to remove the tape.
I’ve taken him into the hall and tried to show him through the curtain, but his perception and understanding are so poor that he even looks in the wrong direction when I point out where to look. And, of course, he’d only remember for a minute anyway.
But I will persevere, even when he lifts up the rope at the driveway and heads toward the door. I’ve already added a second rope, and I’ll tell him again and again. And again. Hopefully our sparrow will stay to raise her family on the porch.