Bird in Hand...

There is a lesson in every moment. Trey is in St. Louis for a training this week. Logan and I decided to eat dinner on the patio and play in the yard until the sun went down. After dinner (only minimal drama; Mojo ate Logan's hot dog & Logan dropped his lemonade on the ground.) we began playing with the wagon. Logan sat inside and instructed me to go "dat way" or "dis way." We made our way to the gate and discovered that a mother bird had made a nest in the rocks while we were out of town. I suppose she thought she could set up a nice, quiet home but little did she know Mojo was only temporarily in the kennel. Logan and I watched the mother bird protecting her nest for a few moments. I even took a picture (posted). Then, it began...Mojo came to see what we were looking at and chased the mother bird away. I called my mom for advice. Should I leave the nest alone risking Mojo killing the eggs and the mother bird or should I move the nest to a safer place? Mom simply stated, "Lauren, this is an example of survival of the fittest."

My conscious couldn't just leave well alone. I grabbed a large shovel and moved the nest to the other side of the fence. I did so under the watchful eye of the mother bird. Once the nest was safely relocated, I let Mojo back outside...where she promptly chased the mother bird, caught her, and killed her in cold blood. Logan started screaming "Momo popped da bird!" (Note: a few weeks ago Mojo popped a beach ball and Logan has held a grudge.) Mojo strutted around the yard like she had accomplished a fantastic feat. (As an aside, while I removed the dead mother bird from the yard Logan stopped screaming about Momo popping the bird and got quiet...uh oh!I found him drinking out of the fish fountain. UGH!)

I took Logan inside for his bath and to go to bed; all the while feeling sad for the abandoned eggs. I decided to bring the eggs inside and set up a little nest. I wrapped the nest in the heating pad and set it on low (I thought) before leaving the room to work on laundry. A couple hours later I returned to the nest to discover that the heating pad was not on low but on high. I apparently hard boiled the orphaned eggs.

So, what is the lesson in all of this? Leave nature be? Natural selection is real? Dogs will be dogs? The best intentions?

How about "Chaos is the norm at the Geier household!"