As they have for the past several years, a pair of wrens set up house this spring above our back patio. The chicks have hatched, and both mom and dad make regular forays for food for their growing offspring. It's always a delight to watch each spring, and we have been looking forward to the day four or five fledglings will be hopping around the patio prior to their initial takeoff.
This morning, Momma Wren tumbled to the ground with a dead chick whom she had removed from the nest. Normal behavior for wrens in such circumstances. I expected her to leave the chick and return to her normal routine. Instead, she dragged that chick a full 20 feet to the base of a twin-trunked oak tree just off the patio. She labored to stuff her baby into a cleft at the base, and then labored several minutes covering up the chick with leaves, grass, and twigs. She then sat there, quietly, looking toward the burial mound. Then, she flew off, resuming her search for food for her remaining brood. I was left pondering the immense complexity of God's creation. Even the tiny wren showed compassion and care for her baby, and seemingly even sorrow, even after its death. God is good. All the time.