This morning we had what appeared to be an injured bird on our front porch. Robby and I watched it from the window as it futzed with its wings. When we went out to get Sam from school, it didn’t fly away, but instead stared at us in terror. When we returned from school pick-up it was still there, in the same spot.

As I called and left a message for the local bird rehabilitation center, two other, larger birds arrived. At first I was certain they were the parents, remembering that Hubby had told me he’d seen a bird feeding another out in the yard the other day. But as their feeding began to look more to me like fighting, I started to wonder if this was an attack by two larger birds rather than the careful tending of young.

The phone rang minutes after I left my message, and Miriam began asking me questions about what the birds looked like and what they were doing. Very quickly she assured me that the scene outside our window was exactly what we should be seeing.

Often Mourning Doves leave the nest before they can actually fly, so for a brief portion of time the baby is out and about, but on the ground. The parents come and feed it only a few times a day, regurgitating food for it to eat from their mouths, which looks very much like two birds trying to peck at each other. They also try to corral the baby into a hiding place for the duration of time that it can’t fly so that it is safe from animals, particularly outdoor cats.

When she asked me if there was anything on our porch that might serve as a hiding place for the bird I had to chuckle - “Um, well, yeah, there are two strollers, a sand table, some chairs, three trash cans, some dump trucks . . .” at which point she cut me off, stating that our porch was apparently a perfect spot for a baby Mourning Dove to hide, and that it must have been carefully selected by the baby’s parents.

We are to help the parents by keeping the baby under cover if it wanders out when they aren’t around. She said that even if I handle it they will still care for it. And to chase off any animal that might come by.

I can’t imagine. To be forced to go off and leave my baby before it was truly ready for the world, so that I could provide for its needs. And yet we don’t have to look to birds as the only example of where this happens, as it is all too common among our own species.

I wonder if they are staying in sight of their child, just to know, or if they have to venture further out and just trust that it will be ok, that someone else will step up and help until they can return.

After they fed it and flew off, Sam asked why the Daddy and Mommy weren’t staying to help it; why were they leaving it alone? I assured him they would be back. That they had to go and find food to bring to it, and that we would do our best to keep it safe while they were gone.

When I went out to make sure it was still under cover, it took me a minute or two to see it behind the trash can. I suppose that’s a good thing, the point of being hidden, actually, but still my stomach dropped for a brief moment, and I wondered what I’d missed while away feeding my own children their lunch.

It’s back by the pink baby stroller now - it likes that spot.