Monday, July 25, 2011
|Fledgling house wren moments before first leap into flight|
photo by Jonathan Schechter
Parental flights to and from the house wren nesting box overlooking my porch had become
more frequent--almost frantic. Incoming flights delivered tiny bugs, grubs and other tiny wiggly
meaty treats. Outgoing flights carried fecal sacs to keep living quarters clean. Yesterday, just after the sun warmed the weathered nest boxt he first restless fluffed up fledgling came to the 'door' and
with little hesitation lept into the sky and succesfully switched to first flight mode.
He fluttered to a limb on the arbor, clung on tight and looked about. "I did it!"
For the wren it was bold leap into a dream of flight.
Two years ago I tossed and turned in restless sleep on the lower slopes of Kilimanajo after a
hearty dinner that included tea laced with dark honey and 125 mg of Acetazolomide to decrease
my chances of altitude sickness. At sunup I climbed out my tent, looked about our camp above
the pink clouds, downed a fried eggs, more tea and a biscuit and took the first step into the rarified
air finaly day's climb to the summit of this magincant volcano that is the roof of Africa.
For me the emergence from the tent was my leap of faith. "I can do this."
Seven hours later I was smiling on the summit.
I wonder if the house wren at his first flight felt the same sense of pleasure that became mine
at that moment of accomplishment.
I don't see why not.
Final base camp at about 17,500 feet. photo by Jonathan Schechter