Poets in the Garden
  • Poets in the Garden
  • About
  • Contact
  • Fly with the Ospreys
  • Pensive Oasis Press
    • New Page

November: The Third Child

11/26/2020

1 Comment

 
I have been thinking about the third child, both in humans and in other animals. For the ospreys, biology is the clear determinant to the third chick's future. It appears that the third chick may be at a disadvantage. Of four osprey families raised in view of the cam on the Whirley Crane nest, there has been one set of three successful chicks to fledge. The first year, there was a third egg laid and removed by Rosie, apparently unviable. The second year, all three chicks fledged. The third year, the third chick, Gamma, died at four days of age.Gamma appeared from the start to have possible neurological problems, wobbly and often facing the wrong way to be fed(this is lay person's observation). And this year, Tam, the third chick, fledged but then faltered during the fledge and never recovered. We don't really know why. So the third chick would seem to be weaker and less viable. (This is not necessarily true of other osprey nests, however.)
With humans, I have noticed that the third child is often less confident than the older siblings, perhaps closer to the mother, and more of a loner. Also I have noticed more empathy in third children. Perhaps with more health issues as well. Again, this is just my observation, but it has intrigued me and led to the following tale and poems. Read, enjoy, ponder and come to your own conclusions. And if you are the third child, welcome to the club!
(JM is not a third child and Píccola has no idea if she is, so they are both taking a rest this month.)
​Three Poems for the Third Child
The third child
Meek and mild
'Til provoked 
​Then goes wild.
Do not be afraid to try,
Do not be afraid to fly.
Let yourself go,
Just free your wings.
Sooner than you know,
​You'll take to the sky.
 Are you the third child too?
What does that mean for you?
Do you go to bed first?
At games are you the worst?

You have a sister or a brother,
And you'll always have one another.
Sometimes a bother but a help too,
Help when you're hurt or to tie your shoe.

Sometimes they might tattle on you,
But then they will protect you too.
And if you want to be alone,
You must seek a place all your own.

When you grow up and you leave home,
You will soon come into your own.
You can shine as much as they do,
Show them that you have talents too.

And feel secure knowing that they
​Will be there at the end of day.
PictureThree photos from Flikr via Weebly, cannot be copied or altered.

                The Three Sons

Once there was a man who had three sons. He raised his sons well and taught them much about music, art, and science. He also made sure that they kept their bodies fit, for that is important as well.  In this way, they would be prepared for life. The three brothers got along well and played together, but they were also competitive, each trying to outshine the others. The youngest was always at a disadvantage, trying to keep up with his brothers.
One day, their father said, “My sons, it is time for you to go out into the world to seek your fortunes. Follow your path wherever it leads, seek new experiences, and strive to find the one occupation that will fulfill you. Return in five years and report to me."
The first and oldest brother set off confidently,  ready to start a new life. His younger brother followed, eager to seek new adventures. The youngest wasn’t so sure he was ready to leave, but he did so, packing his beloved fiddle and his art supplies.
Picture
Picture
​Time passed slowly for the father. He often wondered how his sons were doing. And finally, five years to the day they had left, he heard a knocking on the door. There stood his eldest son.
“Greetings, my son,” his father exclaimed, hugging his son tightly. You must be tired. Sit down and rest. Have some soup and bread.”
His son gladly took the chair and soup bowl he offered. While he was eating, there was a knock at the door and in walked the second son. He too, sat down to eat. And then, just as the sun was setting, in walked the youngest brother. When they had all finished their soup, the father spoke. 
I will ask you each  three questions,” he said. "After you have all three  answered, you can tell us of your adventures."
.He turned to his oldest son.
“What did you achieve?”
“ I became a scientist and made a great discovery."
“What do people say?”
“They acclaim me far and wide. I have become famous.”
“And how do you make them feel?”
“Oh, they admire me for what I have done.”
The father turned to his second son.
“And you my son? What did you accomplish?”
“ I became an artist. I am employed by a large and famous company and earn good money.”
“What do others say about you?”
“They love my art and pay good money for it.”
“And how do you make them feel?”
“My art brings them pleasure whenever they look at it.”
Now the father turned to his youngest son. 
“And you, my son? What did you accomplish? Which path did you choose?”
The youngest son hung his head. “I tried science but it was not enough. So I tried art. But I wanted to play my fiddle. So I played music. I just couldn’t choose. I wanted to do them all. In the end, I chose to teach. Then I could do all three.”
“Well, then, what did people say?”
“I don’t know, father.” He hung his head. 
“And how did you make them feel?”
“That I don’t know either. My students seem to like me but they don’t really tell me how they feel. Perhaps I have not accomplished anything of great worth. Perhaps I am a failure. No one has ever acclaimed me as they have my brothers.”
“Not so!” the other two spoke at the same time.
“One day I was walking through a town,” the oldest brother said. “I heard two young men talking. They were talking about their favorite teacher. One liked his science teacher the best. 
‘He makes learning science such fun,’ the man said. ‘And I learn ever so much.’ 
‘My music teacher is the same,’ the other said. ‘What is your teacher’s name?’
“Well, it turned out they both had the same teacher and that teacher was you.”
He clapped his brother on the back. “You are famous, my brother.”
“And I,” added the second brother. “I came across an art show. The artists were all magnificent. I asked how they had learned. They all said they had the same teacher. And that teacher not only taught them well, he encouraged them and made them feel successful, so they kept at their art until they had perfected it. And guess who that man was?”
“I don’t know,” the youngest brother answered. 
“You, of course.” 
“So you are a successful teacher,” the father spoke quietly. "You help others to be successful. You make them feel capable and good about themselves. I would say that you have achieved much, my son. As much as your two brothers. You only need to apply that to yourself as well.”
He looked at his three sons. 
“I am well pleased with all three of you. You have taken what you have learned and used it to make the world a better place. You have accomplished something and helped others in return. Stay here a while and keep me company, then go out again and continue along your paths.”
The brothers nodded. Then the oldest spoke.
“If we have done so, father, it is because of your example. You gave us the tools to achieve and the knowledge that we must help others as well as ourselves. Thank you.”
The three brothers stayed with their father for a while then each set off again. But the youngest found a job teaching nearby so that he could visit his father often and continue to learn from his wisdom. And all lived in happiness and  fulfillment.
 
-MW
In Memory of the Third Chicks Who Did not Survive
Picture
Rosie feeding Gamma the last day May 15, 2019 photo courtesy of GGAS osprey cam
​Wrong Way Gamma
 
Last born, third child, different
From the very onset.
Smallest, weakest, struggled
Tried to hold your head up,
Get fish but faced backward.
Looked to Dad, not at fish.
Mother Rosie always 
Made sure you got your bite. 
 
But one night, four days old,
You were left in the rain, 
Alone, bedraggled, wet.
Was it chance that left you
Out there in the dark cold?
Or was it meant to be?
Were you about to die?
We will never know why.
 
Your parents frantically 
Brought sticks, nestorated.
Richie brought a blanket,
Belated help for you,
Comfort for the others?
They dug you into the nest
To your eternal rest.
Then went on with their life.
 

​Gamma’s Song
 
I have a song unsung
My life from me wrung
A story never told
For I have grown cold.
 
But in my short life
Free of danger and strife,
I was well- loved and known
The seeds of love were sown.
 
Now my spirit may rise
Into heavenly  skies
Where I will be free
Free just to be me.
 
But always to belong
In memory and song.
 
Picture
Tam alone on the nest July 7, 2020 photo courtesy of GGAS osprey cam
​Tam, the Third Chick  
 
You were the last to hatch, third child,
You learned to push to get a bite,
Or wait until the time was right.
You were spunky but also mild.
 
You conquered every milestone,
Walk on knees, then stand on your feet.
How to flap your wings, learn to eat
And to feed on a fish alone.
 
You watched your brother on nest’s edge
As he flapped his wings, tried to fly,
Hopped up then hovered in the sky
As he finally managed to fledge.
 
Saw him land on the Whirley Crane,
And you called, I want to fly too.
But your wings would not carry you
And you hopped up and down in vain.
 
But you tried and tried and tried again,
You hopped and pedaled and hovered,
Tried so hard to reach your brother,
Then landed on the lower crane.
 
Still you wanted to go higher,
Finally reached the top of the crane,
Then you tried again and again.
You wanted to be a flier.
 
But suddenly all went awry.
You fell and we’ll never know why.
Slipping down the crane you went,
Bumping in a deep descent.
 
You were found by a woman there
Who took you where you could get care.
Huddled in peopled place unknown
Forlorn, confused and all alone.
 
The people tried, oh they tried to
Save you but nothing they could do
Worked. All went awry. Now we sigh
And cry and forever ask why.
Tam's Song

I wanna fly, I gotta try.
I don't want just to always hover.
I want to go way up there on high,
Way up there to join my brother.

Take me wings, take me way up there.
I want to fly just like the others.
Help me so I can fly everywhere.
I don't want just to always hover.

Help me, wings, now help me to fly.
Let me be an adult osprey.
Teach me to fly so high in the sky,
Teach me to fish in this Great Bay.

Now you are up in the sky,
Can fly high and even higher.
You can fly to the sun,
Without ever getting tired.

To stars in heavens above,
Blown by our sorrowing sighs,
Carried on our wings of love
High into welcoming skies.

Above mountain in the west,
Fly into flaming sunset sky,
While we remember on the nest,
Tam, the chick, who wanted to fly.
1 Comment
Gail MacDonald
12/1/2020 10:44:45 am

Midi, this wonderful content encourages introspection, affection & tears. Dear third osprey babies - so pleasing to have them memorialized with such love. Your poems are inspired, as always, and I'm sending that story to my teacher daughter. Your lovely singing voice, as usual, chokes me up, but the rap song is so clever. You always have a new and interesting aspect of yourself to show us. We miss JM and Piccola but we know they were cheering you in the background.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Archives

    December 2024
    February 2024
    December 2023
    November 2023
    September 2023
    February 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015

Proudly powered by Weebly
Photos from Eric Kilby, tracie7779, USFWS Mountain Prairie, Denis Bourez, jinxmcc, Japanese beauty, voyager2014, Kirt Edblom, nevil zaveri (thank you for 15+M views:), kennethkonica, FaceMePLS, Marianne Serra, irio.jyske, 270862, NASA Hubble, steviep187, Keith Laverack, corsi photo, Howard J Duncan, Luna sin estrellas, Lynda W1, bvi4092, John Brighenti, Kecko, Cambridge Cat, Alexxx1979, ashwin kumar, vastateparksstaff, Marian Elizabeth May, sussexbirder, ell brown, David Meurin, Rod Raglin, Swallowtail Garden Seeds, A_Peach, timo_w2s, acryptozoo, NASA Hubble, El Coleccionista de Instantes, gizmo-the-bandit, THE Holy Hand Grenade!, RRS13, StoresundPhoto, mikecogh, Tony Webster, ajari, dsgetch, A_Peach, joiseyshowaa, focusonmore.com, SchuminWeb, Sam-H-A, Yves Sorge, Me in ME, Denkrahm, US Mission Geneva, Cambridge Cat, Marianne Serra, Theo Crazzolara, François Reiniche, Mark A. Nakasone, devasTated_cZar, Mikey G Ottawa, Free Public Domain Illustrations by rawpixel, lundyd, 7beachbum, Tim J Keegan, OliBac, alh1, blachswan, oberbayer, alh1, hepp, Dmitry Karyshev, L_K_M, ibm4381