Kenneth Cole was born and died in our backyard in the short
span of a few days. Kenneth Cole the bird, not the famous designer.
A few days back I started noticing a house wren going
frequently into the tiny hole of the bird-house that hangs in our backyard. My
hopes rose! Last two summers in a row, the bird-house has been the cozy nursery
for wren hatchlings. We always heard them chirp, but we could never nail the
time to see when they become big enough to venture out. Each time they flew away—abandoning the perfectly
good built-in nest for whoever picks it up next season.
This time I kept a regular vigil. I developed the skill to silently come close enough to see the parent bringing food from outside and feeding the babies. I learned not to be too obtrusive and scare the parent away. Just like a cuckoo clock, the babies poked their little heads out to grab the food from the parent’s beak. It was pure bliss to observe this—for two afternoons straight! I knew the babies are growing and gathering strength to learn to fly.
This time I kept a regular vigil. I developed the skill to silently come close enough to see the parent bringing food from outside and feeding the babies. I learned not to be too obtrusive and scare the parent away. Just like a cuckoo clock, the babies poked their little heads out to grab the food from the parent’s beak. It was pure bliss to observe this—for two afternoons straight! I knew the babies are growing and gathering strength to learn to fly.
And one of them did learn, but perhaps not well enough.
Yesterday when my son Gogol was hanging out by the pool with our dog Biscuit,
he suddenly heard a plopping sound. Biscuit started barking like crazy. I was
inside. I heard Gogol screaming, “Mamma! The bird fell down in the pool!!”
We rushed outside. We saw a tiny bird floating in the water.
We tried to rescue him/her with the pool-cleaning net, but to no avail. The
little lungs got filled with water in no time. The little heart stopped. From
where the body was found, it is clear that the baby ventured out of the
bird-house and walked some distance along the twigs of the Japanese Maple tree canopying the pool before losing grip and falling down. My heart broke.
We decided to give the baby a dignified burial. The white
Kenneth Cole watch box seemed like the perfect casket to cradle the tiny
lifeless body. When we dug a hole in the ground and put the box in, the top of the
box looked just like a gravestone, lying flat on the ground--the name “Kenneth Cole” prominently visible.
I guess the little one was destined for a human name—Kenneth
Cole. RIP Kenneth Cole. It was nice to know you, albeit for just a few moments.
