After a full year of getting to know my toddler, Brisbane, I have come to the conclusion that he is a bird. Now that is not to say that he is a bird in a physical sense, I am not crazy and do not need to seek professional help….at least not for this topic, but more that his day to day actions lead me to believe he has bird qualities. Something that I had never really thought about until that fateful day last week where, as a class, we learned about birds, bird habits and bird noises.
The first similarity that struck me was the video of the little baby birds begging for food whenever their parents were near. One minute the little bald bandits were snuggled into their nest of twigs, sleeping the morning away. However this calm demeanor was switched to a desperate plea for food with mouths wide open and squealing the moment a parent bird came by. This is exactly how Brisbane acted when he was first born and continues to do today. One minute he is sleeping in a joyous slumber, cute as can be, peaceful and resting. The second I come within of foot of his nose he let’s out a groan, his mouth opens wide and he begins the hunt for milk.
My next example of my bird child comes from the videos of little Robins bouncing around on the grass searching for worms. First, the stand like statues, listening and feeling for any indication of movement under the surface of the grass, waiting for a signal. Without warning, they begin to do a hippity hop hop dance before gracefully gliding along the ground and stabbing their dinner with their beaks. This is much like Brisbane, without the beak stab thankfully, who, at breakfast, lunch and dinner time, sits in his highchair poised and still watching me as I pull out the cutting board. He remains still in observation as I walk to the fridge and pull out his grapes. He then begins the hippity hop hop dance by bouncing on his butt cheeks as I wash and slices his grapes. The moment I place the grapes in front of him he stops the dance and gently pecks at them with his fingers until he has found one suitable to eat. Once he locates the perfect grape, he grabs it in the palm of his hand and slams it into his mouth. Much like the Robins pecking and choosing their meals.
My last example of my baby bird Brisbane comes from his song. I was not even remotely aware of Brisbane’s singing until we listened to the different bird songs in class. It was in this moment of listening I heard a familiar chew of the black rosy finch. The noise, although a lot higher in pitch then Brisbane’s song, consisted of a few short ‘chew, chew, chew’s’ followed by an even shorter chew at a lower note. Brisbane is constantly singing the song of the black rosy finch. He also, on occasion, purses his lips together and mimics the short sharp Chirp calls of Anna’s Hummingbirds.
The proof is in the pudding, my little bouncing bundle of baby joy is a bird. Sort of.