Lost a grandpa

The eagle nest is short one chick

After a heavy snow storm cleared away from the nest yesterday (I wrote about in my previous post), only two chicks put their little grandpa heads up to be fed. It seems that the remains of one chick are somewhere in the nest bowl. No one knows why or how the chick died, and the nest camera operators have reminded everyone that we observe nature, and nature goes how it goes.

I know nature plays the numbers game—reproduce as widely as possible in hopes that some genetic material will make it through.

But humans also have hearts, and I gave a chunk of mine to the little grandpas. So I have a sad little chunk of my heart today for the lost chick.

I’m still rooting for the two remaining, who are continuing to be fed and struggle to bite those hunks of dead, disgusting fish or coot.

But this does make me wonder about the particular grief I feel at the lost of an animal…the little grandpa for sure, but more poignantly, the beloved pets who have come and gone through my life. Sometimes I swear that nothing hurts as bad as putting a dog down.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about this kind of grief … in the comments, if you’re so inclined. What does it mean to give your heart to an animal that will inevitably die before you?