Cardinal Questions

Last year was an extraordinary one for cardinal watching. For the first time in over two decades we were able to keep tabs on and celebrate the procreational success of our resident pair of cardinals. This couple—I'm now calling them Charlie and Alice—have been monogamous mates (well, at least as far as I can tell) for over half a dozen years.

What was so exceptional last year is that, for the first time, I discovered the location of their nest and was able to watch them raise three broods over the summer. Since their nest was close to the feeder (which is right outside the door), I was able to monitor the family all summer—watch Alice sit on the eggs, spy the tiny hatchlings, view the fledglings leave the nest, watch Charlie stuff their beaks for a couple of weeks, and then one morning find the youngsters gone, as mom was now sitting on the next batch of eggs.

What a great gift that was! I believe that Charlie and Alice have lived here long enough that they've become comfortable with me ogling them. We've become members of some kind of extended family.

This year, however, the location of their nest remained a mystery to me. I tried to keep an eye out, but my observational skills need more honing. Not only have I not seen their nest, but also never spotted any fledglings all summer. Were Charlie and Alice unsuccessful this year? Did their nest get raided by some predator? Did they take the year off—given that they were so prolific last year? Like many wild plants that fruit every other summer, were my cardinals doing the same? Were they just not as robust this summer or as successful at insemination? Surely Alice was not denying Charlie?

So many questions: so few answers. I find that, when becoming absorbed in Mother Nature, questions keep piling up and answers are slower to come. This is generally true of life, I believe. In fact, we should be wary of possessing a passel of answers about most anything—especially the deeper things of life. Having too many answers can stunt the growth of our minds, as we become complacent and over confident in our knowing. Answers appeal to our mental laziness—convincing us that we are wise when we're just smug. I believe that our lives are so much richer when our questions greatly outnumber our answers.

I finally saw two cardinal fledglings recently—at the very end of summer. I took great joy in finding out that Charlie and Alice were still willing and able to participate in the procreational drill. Now, I question what will next summer will bring.