Trying Again
March 17, 2009
Sitting beside me as I write this is a robin’s nest. Dislodged by a recent gust of wind, it tumbled from the oak tree in my backyard and was caught in a pillowy blanket of fresh snow, where it was picked up by me.
The finding of the nest did not catch me by surprise. I knew the nest was there and that it would soon not be. I am generally well educated on the goings on of the winged and furred creatures who inhabit my tiny bit of Earth. We coexist well, them and I. Their job as tenants is to remind me of the world I sometimes neglect to consider. My job as caretaker is to feed and water them as best I can. And, as a side benefit, to name them whatever I think is most fitting.
The robin who resided in my oak tree was named Harriet. How I arrived at that particular moniker escapes me and I suppose doesn’t matter. What does matter, however, is that Harriet was my favorite. The rabbits and squirrels and blue jays and cardinals were all fine in their own way, of course. But Harriet was my bud.
She was my security system in the event the neighbor’s cat decided to snoop around for a quick meal. She was the perfect mother to the four robinettes she hatched. And she sang. Every morning and every evening, regardless of weather. Even after the worst of storms, when the rains poured and the thunder cracked and the winds whipped, she sang.
I envied Harriet and her penchant for singing regardless. And when the weather turned cold and she sought her refuge in warmer climates, I missed her too.
And now all I have left is this nest to ponder.
An amazing piece of workmanship, this nest. Bits of string, feathers, dead flowers, twigs, and dried grass woven into a perfect circle, with a smooth layer of dried mud on the inside.
The resulting combination is protective, comfortable, and a wonder to behold. Harriet likely took between two and six days to construct her home and made about a hundred and eighty trips to gather the necessary materials. She may live up to a dozen years and build two dozen nests. I like to think this one was among her finest.
Scientists have taken much interest in this facet of bird behavior. They’ve even come up with a fancy name for it: Caliology, the study of birds’ nests. Artists and poets have found bird nests to be a fertile subject matter. During last year’s Olympic games, when the Chinese erected the largest steel structure in the world to serve as center stage, it was built in the shape of a bird nest.
Why all this interest? Maybe because of its inherent perfection. You cannot make a better bird nest. The form and function cannot be improved upon. Even more astounding is that Harriet built this nest without any education. Where to build it and with what and how were all pre-programmed into her brain. No experience was necessary. And though my brain protests the possibility, I know that this flawless creation of half craftsmanship and half art is not unique. It is instead replicated exactly in every other robin’s nest in every other tree.
Instinct, the scientists say.
We humans are lacking in the instinct area, at least as far as building things goes. In fact, some sociologists claim that we have no instincts at all. I’m not so sure that’s true. I am sure, however, that things do not come so natural to me. I must learn through an abundance of trials and many errors. My education comes through doing and failing and doing again, whether it be as simple as fixing the sink or as complicated as living my life. Little seems to be pre-programmed into my brain. When it comes to many things, I am blind and deaf and plenty dumb.
I said I envied Harriet for her singing. The truth, though, is that I am tempted to envy much more. How nice it would be to find perfection at the first try. To know beforehand that success is a given.
That I am destined to struggle and stumble and fail sometimes prods me into thinking I am less.
Maybe.
What do you think? Would you rather be a Harriet and get it right every time? Or is there much to be said for trying and failing and trying again?
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14 Responses to “Trying Again”
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I’m a writer whose first novel, Snow Day, will be published by FaithWords in 2010.
But don’t let that fool you. I’m just as confused as anyone.
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mmm. I think I’d have to say Harriet. But I can really see your point about the other side.
Nice thoughts! Thank you for sharing
My “Harriet” lost her egg last year. It fell from the tree in the back yard. I could hear her from the front room. It was really disturbing and tragic.
I kept the shell for a while then realized, it was just a shell. That baby was with Jesus singing – perfectly
Thanks again, Sir Coffey
I’m thankful for the process we go through to learn new things. Although I must admit sometimes I wish I learned faster!
Hmmm, that’s an interesting question, Billy.
I’d like to say Harriet, but then, I think I need to stumble a bit.
I’m kind of hard headed, so it takes those stumbles to get me on track…but I learn so much from them…
Would I learn as much if I was a Harriet? I’m not sure.
Oh, but there sure would be fewer tears if I just got it right every time…
Ugh, I can’t answer. I’m brain-locked.
Thanks a lot… **smile** No, it’s a great post, Billy!
A little bit of both if possible. I think each of us have gifts and talents that are bestowed upon us. We do not have to be prideful of these things because they come easy to us. Like Harriet, I’ll bet she is pleased, but dwells very little on it.
The things I have struggled with however are nearer and dearer to my heart as I savor the lessons learned. These things have caused several moments pause I consider everything.
Much like a grocery store, as I stock up and prepare my home not only physically, but spiritually and take inventory, I see the growth in each individual. Then you can shed tears you know are worthwhile. Tears of Joy. I think you can see yourself and others clearer if you consider both. Thanks Billy! Something for me to consider the rest of the day!
Great post, Billy!
Although it would be nice to be perfectly instinctual like Harriet, I think that the reason we aren’t is because if we were, we would have no need for God.
Our failures are what draw us closer to Him.
I’ll admit it: I am a perfectionist and a control freak. My brothers call me “Monk-ette” and “OCD.” I’m really not that bad, but I think there is a lot for me to learn from this post…
As much as I wish that I could do everything right on the first try, I recognize that I learn much more from my mistakes than from my triumphs. And it seems like the more the consequences of my mistakes sting, the more memorable and lasting the lesson is…
Thanks for sharing this!
The process is good, but I just wish I always remembered it was a process. Then I wouldn’t get so bogged down with my lack or failures or questions.
I guess I have a hard time wanting to be a Harriet because experience has told me it’s just not that way.
I keep thinking about something I’ve been cativated by recently: just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it’s easy. I just have to say “God bless the process.”
Unfortunately, this ol’ bird thinks she’s got to get it right every time. Hmmph. … God’s working that out of me, though.
For the first time this year, we awoke this morning to chirping birds. Sociologists may claim we humans don’t have instincts, but at the sound of chirping, I felt instinctively grateful.
I think there’s a lot to be said about trying, failing, and then trying again. Just as when I view a movie, sometimes I will see something that I completely missed when I watch it the second or third time from when I viewed it the first time. Sometimes I learn so much more from doing things over and over.
I agree with Avily, that if we knew everything the first time, everytime, what need would we feel for God?
Good question; great posting!
Great story Billy, as always!
If God were to allow us to be “Harriet” he would need to change some other things as well – can you imagine a bunch of people roaming around getting everything right all the time? We’d make each other miserable.
As with all things, God knew/knows what would work. And, I’m thankful, most times, for the times I’ve messed up. They’ve made me who I am.
I would rather learn by mistakes because it pays back a 2nd chance. And with 2nd chances, new things can erupt and grow. I think of Spring like that. It is a 2nd chance after an unexpected snowfall and a renewal of spirit every year.
I want to be Harriet. I lived the first half of my life screwing up most everything the first time around. It would be nice to get it right on the first try from here on out.
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