Dear Little Blue Egg

I still do not know where your parents are at present.

I am just your surrogate human grandmother figure who lives behind the blue door where you lie resting in your beautiful downy nest in the magnolia wreath.

Quite alone since your Sunday debut.

Three days now.

You ought to have had at least couple of sibling eggs, but…

Here is what I have learned, since learning is the only thing I can do in this situation of waiting to see how Nature acts on your behalf:

  1. Sometimes a mother bird’s egg-laying gets interrupted. Your mother may resume. I haven’t known this to happen before with our house finch families, but let’s not dwell on that right now.
  2. Sometimes a mother finch lays just one egg. Again, I haven’t known this to happen before, but… maybe you’re all she has. Which means you are very precious, indeed.
  3. Sometimes a mother finch will lay eggs and wait for some time before returning to incubate them, as a means of diverting attention from the nest. It’s a ploy to keep you safe. I could have sworn I heard your parents chatting at the nest late yesterday afternoon. I so expected another egg…
  4. Because a mother may wait a rather long time to return, overly interested humans (ahem) should wait a month (a MONTH!) before assuming a nest and egg are abandoned. There is hope for you yet, Little Blue Egg…

Meanwhile, I’ve done all I can for my front porch bird sanctuary… or should I say egg sanctuary? As always, I put up a sign warning visitors of your nest with instructions to use another door. My family knows to leave the front door bolted (just in case, I put a reminder sign inside: STOP! -birds-).

Meanwhile, with temperatures dipping into the twenties overnight, I cannot help thinking about your cold blue lonesomeness. I am making myself take heart that there can be a pretty good span of time before incubation begins…that you still have a window for survival…

Meanwhile, there are PLENTY of other things with which to concern myself. In the whole of the universe, you are but one little blue egg; yet your tiny solitary presence affects me. Maybe it has something to do with all the work your parents put into creating this beautiful nest and the expense of egg production is to your mother. Very costly, that. Should you, her current one and only, not hatch…it seems, in the scheme of things, a grievous loss.

Granted, grievous losses happen in the world every single day, and my species is not the best (by far) at fathoming (or preventing) them.

For the record: I love birds. Something about you gives wings to something in my soul. House finch songs are particularly joyful; indeed, you’re a bona fide omen of joy (I looked it up long ago). Early in the morning, doxology of joy; in the blue hour, evensong of joy.

This present silence, dear Little Blue Egg, feels immense.

Know that I am pulling for you while watching from a distance.

Your hopeful resident human-guardian-grandmother,


with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the Slice of Life Story Challenge every day in the month of March

26 thoughts on “Dear Little Blue Egg

  1. Dear Little Blue Egg, You know have a community of teachers/writers who are also pulling for you and praying for you! I agree with Ramona- your parents have chosen the very best place to nest and the very best human to guard, protect and marvel at you.Even if you never hatch, your existence and Fran’s writing about you have touched me deeply and isn’t life about the impact we make on others?

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  2. I will be following closely to see what becomes of the Dear Little Blue Egg. I love how you have woven this story together over the last two posts. I hope you will continue it, even though March is coming to an end.

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  3. If this egg could hatch from good-willed intentions alone, this one would. There is hope woven throughout this piece, the hope that all will be well even when circumstances are beyond our control. We sometimes forget that the mere act of hoping can be exhausting and fretful, this odd ability of ours to feel many emotions at the same time. I can sense all of it in this post.

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  4. Fran, yes! The enormity of the entire universe and we are all cheering for this tiny egg at your front door, the little bird that rests inside. I feel these words tug at my heart: Meanwhile, there are PLENTY of other things with which to concern myself. In the whole of the universe, you are but one little blue egg; yet your tiny solitary presence affects me.

    Life matters. And come what may, His eye is on the sparrow (and finch). And all of ours are, too! Please keep updating so we know about this baby! I love this post, this picture. I don’t want the SOLSC to end….I just want to keep right on going to read all of the blogs and keep being inspired in all of these ways.

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  5. Thank you for this continuation of what intrigued me from an earlier post of yours. I know this is a literal object of concern and significance for you–and for us, your readers–but you imbue everything with a much grander, symbolic significance. There is hope, there is a connection, there is respect. We will continue to pray.

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