Yesterday morning I sat at my kitchen table, looking out at the gray trunks of barren trees against a gray sky. A slight fog added yet another layer of gray to create a landscape that seemed trapped in a dream state. Flitting through this horizon-less foreground I watched all kinds of feathered creatures travel between the feeder on my back porch to the nearby trees, their patterns standing out against the patchy rough bark with no greenery to enclose them. In the distance another movement caught my eye, and I heard the telltale conversation between two Red-tailed Hawks. Locating them above the valley behind our house, I saw one full-grown bird circling and crying out encouragement, and one much smaller fledgling, wobbling along behind.
Young birds of prey are designed and equipped to soar. They have lightweight skeletons; aerodynamic styling and they lack the extra baggage of a bladder, which we know can be a great inconvenience on any long flight. Hawks begin developing juvenile flight feathers at about two or three weeks. But oddly enough, flight does not come naturally to them, just like walking and running do not occur automatically in human children. An online article from Boston University’s engineering school reiterates the relationship between nature and nurture in the bird’s fulfillment of its purpose.
“…instincts are given to us at birth, but it takes exercising and motivation by parents to help babies reach their full potential of instinct…no bird is born with the ability to fly because it takes practice. Rather birds are trained by their parents through the power of reinforcement.”1
How does this reinforcement take place? It begins with the need and desire for food. The bird parent, who started out by dropping tidbits down the baby’s gullet in a very obliging way, positions itself progressively farther from the nest, and the hungry dependent must “go out on a limb” to get its meal. In the process it exercises necessary muscles, learning first to walk and keep its balance. Young birds of all kinds spend time flapping and strengthening their wings inside the nest. Muscles develop, flight feathers grow in and still the birds continue to work through a progression of skill before independent flight. From another source on Eagles-
“Eagles learn and hone their ability to fly several weeks before actually flying. They practice with short takeoffs and landings on and around the nest, gaining strength and improving their agility and landing ability. This is called "branching" — or sitting in the branches of their home tree.” 2
It takes about 42 days for hawks to “fledge” or leave the nest. In addition to withholding food, adults might motivate their young by circling low over the nest and vocalizing their encouragement, something I am privileged to witness here every year in late winter and spring. For an eagle, I learned that up to half of first attempts end up with the fledgling stuck on the ground, where the parents continue to feed them until they are ready to try again. Through falling they learn to spread their wings to ease the impact, and that is when they experience the sensation of “lift” that will become body memory.
I am always humbled to see wisdom at work in nature. These young don’t know they can fly until they fall. Sometimes they trust the mother and father enough to come when called, sometimes they have to be pushed, but it’s a beautiful thing when they spread their wings and rise.
The promise of Isaiah 41:29 and 31 projects a powerful image for those who have fallen from the safety of the tree, who are weak and weary and waiting to try again. “He gives strength to the weary, and increases the power of the weak. Those that hope in the Lord shall renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not be weary, they will walk and not faint.” This is from the NIV, but as a child I learned we should “wait upon the Lord” from the KVJ, and I think that context is imbued with even deeper meaning.
The walking, running and soaring sound great, but I’m not always so keen on waiting at the bottom of the tree where the coyotes are prowling. Indeed, how do we who are weak and weary mount up on wings? Recently I was reading a devotional about the importance of being still and listening. John Ragsdale, in his book, How Do I Deal with My Emotions? points out that there is little benefit to a relationship in which one party does all the talking. (3) Very true, especially if that party is just me. Admittedly, I have been a lot more likely to make my requests known than to sit still and meditate on scripture, but it is precisely in that place that I can hear the mind of God and the sensation of falling effectively drives me there.
Psalm 37:7 says to “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him.” Because… “In quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” Isaiah 30:15. Like manna from heaven, the source of our sustenance is often inexplicable to those who haven’t tasted it. Like fledglings we must wait, grow and practice before we soar. And like the wind, the grace we cannot see with natural eyes is still the updraft of warmth that rises to lift us when we are willing to leave the safety of the trees.
1 retrieved 2/14/2018 from http://blogs.bu.edu/bioaerial2012/2012/10/09/nature-vs-nurture-how-do-baby-birds-learn-how-to-fly/
2 retrieved 2/14/2018 from www.learner.org/jnorth/tm/eagle/annual/facts_fledglings.html
3 Ragsdale, J. "Listen." How Do I Deal With My Emotions? Smith Freeman Publishing, 2017. pp. 86-90.
the trees.
