Our pet finches are building a nest.
We bought a little pre-made nest and put it in their cage, but we also included some nesting material. We thought maybe they would want to put the material into the nest to make it cozier.
But the male finch, Ron, is on a mission. And he apparently wants to build his very own nest, even if the material is flimsy. He doesn’t seem interested in any pre-manufactured home.
Ron, you see, has been trying to build a nest for weeks, ripping pieces of newspaper off the paper lining the bottom of the cage, shifting paper plates into position, and looking for bits of other things to create a home within his home.
Much as I’m not rooting for baby finches, I got pulled into Ron’s frustration. This little guy just wants to make a nest for him to spend his days with his lovely Hermione. She enjoys his company and happily sits next to him, but I’m not sure she’s ready to start talking caterers or florists.
But Ron? He’s really into Hermione. He hardly ever seems to rest, keeping watch over her, always letting her eat and drink first. Last week we realized he was pulling feathers out of her head—perhaps to cushion a nest, perhaps to get her attention, perhaps for some other reason.
Anyway, for better or for worse, I decided maybe we should let him channel his energy into building a nest. And here we are. Our little finch is making a nest. How does he know what to do?
Ron is a young bird himself, so I doubt he’s ever seen another finch build a nest. He doesn’t need to search YouTube for a DIY video. Somehow, Ron has a little voice inside him that tells him the best location and the way to place the materials just so.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know how to do something without having to research it, without second-guessing yourself? Oh, to be a bird who knows what he is supposed to do without being taught.
During this pandemic, we’re presented with so many questions. Should we get together with family or friends? Should we go shopping? Should we go to Mass? Should we eat out? What is safe?
With each question, I pray for clarity. For a while, I fumbled about what we would do about school in the fall, and then the answer came: We will simply keep them home. Online learning is likely to be an option through our schools. If not, we’ll choose online home schooling. It won’t be ideal. Nothing is ideal. This is a time where you pick the least-bad option for yourself and your family. Since coming to that decision, I have been relieved.
I feel the same way about Mass. We miss going to Mass so much. We miss the Eucharist. But I know not going is the right decision for our family right now. I can feel disappointed and sad and also at peace at the same time.
These aren’t decisions I thought we would ever be making, but there aren’t many good choices now. There are just better choices among the mediocre ones offered. Everything comes with risk. Everything comes with challenge. Yet we have to choose—just as our little finch has to make do with the scraps of pieces he’s finding in the cage.
Watching Ron in nest-building mode, I marveled at how he knew what to do. I decided God must be whispering instructions into his ear, nudging him in gentle, quiet ways as he worked busily to create his little home.
It made me smile to think that God whispers not just to our little finch, but also to each of us, guiding and reassuring us, telling us to trust our instincts and know that He is with us. We just need to listen.
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