In the process of saving a Leyland cypress from being utterly destroyed by a vast infestation if bagworm moths, I’ve been removing and killing hundreds (possibly closer to a thousand by now) of bag-encased larvae. Violence in the effort to save a tree.

I discovered a new risk today.

As I was working to trim the tree and remove the bagworm larvae, I heard the constant call off a bird. It was a distressing call, and I realized I must be near the nest. I moved my ladder a few feet to the east, climbed up, glanced down, and was started with what I saw.

I only made a slight motion, and the three chicks suddenly raised up about four inches, mouths open, willing to ingest whatever was placed there.

My old addiction
Makes me crave only what is best
Like these just this morning song birds
Craving upward from the nest
These tiny birds outside my window
Take my hand to be their mom
These open mouths
Would trust and swallow
Anything that came along

It’s not just the risk of willingly accepting anything as food that makes a small bird’s life precarious. As they raised their almost featherless bodies from the nest, they swayed, nearly blind, their heads too heavy for their underdeveloped necks. It seemed miraculous that they didn’t fall out of their nests.

For over two hours, I was working not more than three feet from a nest chicks so young they were barely beginning to get feathers. Had I situated my ladder eighteen inches to the left, I probably would have destroyed the nest.