Taking Flight

At noon it's breezy, 72 degrees, with occasional sunshine. I watch the Eastern phoebe fledglings like a hawk. (Okay, not exactly like a hawk since I don't want to eat them....)

Frances believes that today is the day our nestlings will take flight. All evidence points in that direction; the parents aren't catching insects and carrying them to their young in the nest as usual. Instead Mom and Dad position themselves on the deck railing or atop the nearby bird feeder pole. Then they turn their backs toward the nest, swivel their heads around to look behind, and pump their tails.

If I were to anthropomorphize their actions I'd imagine them saying to their young: Come on kids. It's time to fly. Follow me.... Once the first phoebe takes flight it's a matter of moments--a minute or two at most--before the whole gang, bird by bird, hits the skies. So, though we'd like to watch their exodus, it's hard to predict the just right moment when someone (Mom? Dad? babies?) determines that the time is Now.

During my TCC practice I positioned myself on the east side of the house within view of the doings of Mom and Dad phoebe on the south side. I also kept an eye on my profile in the living room window to determine how much my yin leg stiffened/straightened as the weight transfered to the other (yang) leg. (Uh oh, was I multitasking?)

The breeze felt cool, the day relaxed, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the birds as I moved my way through the form and substituted Seijaku for a number of the T'ai Chi Chih movements during the second half of practice.

The babies were still nestled in their cozy home by practice end. Thus, the mystery remains: When will our resident phoebes take flight? 'Til then, we're monitoring the kitten and restricting her access to the nest area and/or keeping her inside the house as much as possible. Leaping into the unknown is challenge enough for the bravest of us. A two-week-old bird shouldn't be expected to evade a crafty kitten on her first-ever flight....