She sat on a limb of the tall bull pine, surveying the world below with a sense of well being.  Her brilliant red spouse was over on the big pile of underbrush, put there by the man who owned the property.  The limbs were piled high and pulled up toward the back of the small white house where he and his wife lived.  Puffy snowflakes wafted down through the deep green pine boughs as Mrs. Cardinal fluffed her feathers a little, to better warm herself.

Seeing her offspring gathered under the feeder pole set in the newly dozed earth, she was grateful for the couple who deemed it important to feed their feathered friends.  There had been winters when such was not the case, and they all had been forced to ration their dried berries and seeds to get through the long, cold days.  Those had been particularly hard winters to be sure.

Mrs. Cardinal and her husband had decided early on that they would not migrate further south for the winter, as some of the other Cardinals did.  The deep woods of the Ozark Mountains were a lovely place to raise a family and rarely did they want for food, so the decided to remain year round.  This past year had been particularly good to the Cardinal family.

As a gust of icy cold wind swayed the pine branch, Mrs. Cardinal remembered warmer days, just a few months back in fact.  This was her second year as a wife and mother and she would not trade a moment of the life with her mate.  Not only was he a handsome bird; big, and brilliant of plume, but he was also kind and caring by nature.  His was the sort that was determined to care for his own regardless the cost.

Together they’d searched for just the right place to build their first nest of the spring.  Finally, she had settled on the rambling rose bush tucked right up close to the little wooden back porch.  It had many things to recommend it.  The thorns spaced along the long branches would deter many a predator.  The gentle sway of these same branches would ensure that their offspring would rest well in the soft nest.  Moreover, the vantage point allowed for a quick defense of their home if needed.  Overall, it was a most satisfactory location.

The elderly lady who once lived here had passed on a few years back and her daughter and her husband had inherited the farm.  The couple apparently didn’t live here full time, but seemed to come and go.  From the bits of conversations she had caught, they traveled to places all over the world.  Places where she had only dreamed of going.  She wished it were possible to sit down with one of them and ask them about what life in the Bahamas, Jamaica, or Mexico was like.  There were birds from all over these places who gave their version of life in the islands, or the great mountains beyond her world, but ahhhh to have a human viewpoint; now that would be interesting indeed.

As winter turned into spring, Mrs. Cardinal carried bits of moss to line the nest.  It was a fine nest to be sure.  Mr. Cardinal had chosen the best vines and branches as he helped her whip it into shape.  And just in time too!  Covering the sharp thorns of the rose bush with soft green moss, where the branches crisscrossed to hold the nest secure, she sighed with the pleasure found in doing a good job.

It wasn’t long before she laid the first egg of the spring.  It was beautiful.  The pale blue shell was covered in chocolate brown splotches from top to bottom and all around the undersides.  It was the largest egg she had ever laid.  Something deep inside told her that this young one would rival her ancestor’s son; the one who had been born in the Limberlost so very long ago; the one who had become a legend!  But only time would tell.  Time did have a way of changing things. . .

Soon two other eggs followed.  Each egg was equally as beautiful, but both just a bit smaller than that first one.  She sat on the eggs with love and pride; keeping them warm during the long nights was not just her duty, it was her joy.  This was what she was born to do!

Mrs. Cardinal knew that she would never forget the night she had thought all was lost.  At first, it was just a tiny rustle in the leaves far below her nest.  Then, she heard a whisper of movement, as something down near the earth pushed against the sturdy rose limb that held her nest secure.

Nudging her husband with the tip of her wing, she woke him.  “Dear, I fear we may have an intruder.  I can’t see anything from my position here on the eggs, but something doesn’t sound right.”

Used, by now, to his wife’s keen hearing and mother’s intuition, Mr. Cardinal knew better than to delay his response.  This was not the first clutch of eggs they had raised together, nor would it be their last, God willing.

Whispering hoarsely back to her, he replied, “Give me a second to get awake, and then I will check it out.”

Ruffling his feathers, he leaned his head slightly to better hear what might be afoot.  At first, he thought it might just be the pesky armadillo who loved to get out at night and roam around the yard.  It seemed he was always hungry and would eat anything that he could find.  Then, as a cold chill raced down his back, Mr. Cardinal knew that this was much more serious.  This was life and death.  Not only could he hear the sound below, as it approached more quickly than he would have liked, but he could also smell the peculiar odor of the predator.

Not wanting to alarm his wife unduly, he knew he had to warn her.  It was impossible to tell which side of the nest the evil one might approach from first.  Looking her directly in the eye as a shaft of moonlight fell over their nest; he choked out, “Darling, it is the snake that lives in the rock pile out behind the herb garden.  I have smelled him before, and I would know that scent anywhere.  He will not be easy to get rid of, I fear, but I will do my best.”

What followed was the fiercest battle that this little bird family had ever had to endure, to date anyway.  As Mr. Cardinal took the offensive, he flew from the nest and attacked the snake before it had even gotten the first foothold on their upper limb.  Grabbing him just below his head with the sharp beak, a beak that he was glad he had honed on the old granite rock out back just yesterday; he stabbed once, twice and three times.

As the snake writhed and wriggled, trying to get in a strike at the angry father bird, the moonlight gave the bird the advantage.  The snake was better equipped to see in the dark than bird was, and had it been a cloudy night, the outcome might have been different indeed.  However, after several attempts to climb the bush, only to be bitten by that razor sharp beak again, and again, finally old Sol turned and slithered away through the dry leaves below.

Mrs. Cardinal all the while shrieked and shouted with all her might.  Her screams bringing the hoot owl and the raccoon from their hiding places to see what on earth was going on.  It wasn’t long before old Mr. Raccoon was seen chasing Sol from the side yard.  He would leap and bite the snake’s tail, as the copperhead would twist himself, trying to retaliate.  It was not a good night for the snake.  Not a good night at all.  Danger was averted, for this night at least.

It wasn’t but a few days later until the first egg cracked a tiny bit.  As this was her second year of raising hatchlings, Mrs. Cardinal knew more of what to expect.  The little shiver the egg gave just before the first crack appeared was always a moment for excitement.  The anticipation of finding out the gender of each new fledgling was something she would never grow tired of experiencing.  Seeing her young one burst forth from the shell was worth all the waiting in the world.

As soon as she was sure the egg was hatching, she shouted at the top of her lungs for her husband to hurry and come.  Of course that alerted all the wildlife around and soon there was a regular three-ring circus waiting to see what her first baby of the spring would be.

It didn’t take long until the fuzzy little body was free of the clinging shell.  Sure enough, he was a wonder to behold.  Larger than any she had ever hatched, it was clear that he was destined for greatness.  Oh, how she wished her sister and brother way off in the Limberlost could see this little one!

She could remember still the beauty of her last year’s nest with the little ones peering over the top as they grew big and strong.  The red roses gave such a beauty and fragrance to their home that it was oftentimes all she could do to keep from bursting with the joy of it all.  Her song filled the air throughout the long, busy summer days.

Now, she swayed in time with the cold breeze as she watched her son playing with his sister at the feeder.  They both were lovely to behold.  She was slender, with a brilliant orange beak to offset the drab kaki of her feathers.  The black around her eyes was so intense it made her look older than she was.  He on the other hand was even more brilliant than his father, and every bit as bold.  Mrs. Cardinal hoped, nay prayed, that they would both mature to be birds that would make their parents proud.  Already her daughter had begun to attract the attention of several young males.  She dreaded to think that one of them might woo her away and talk her into leaving their piney woods.

It was quite unusual for Cardinal families to remain in one location year after year.  Many chose to go further south for the winter and then travel far north for the long summer days.  Such was the way with her sister’s family in Indiana.  They had long spent their summers in the Limberlost and then gone on to the everglades of Florida for the winter months.

But not so for her and her clan.  She had never regretted the summer she had met her special fella and had settled on this little hilltop in the mountains of the Ozarks.  It was heaven on earth, to be sure.

Suddenly, Mrs. Cardinal was startled from her reverie in the tall pine tree.  Seeing the majority of birds at the feeder take swift flight, she knew that there must be a predator in the vicinity.  And yet, her two young ones remained on the ground just below the seed box.  Both of them were focused on the conversation they had been carrying on for quite some time.  They were oblivious to any danger lurking nearby.

Mr. Cardinal came to quick alert in the brush pile down below.  Looking up at his beautiful wife, he shouted that he would get to the young ones as quickly as possible.  Already they had lost one child this year.  He would go to his grave filled with grief over the death of that one.  She was a beautiful female Cardinal.  Their three young ones had just begun their flying lessons when it happened.

Mrs. Cardinal had instructed the girls to follow their bigger, and stronger, brother from branch to branch.  Being very careful all the while to not get too low to the ground, nor to fall and perhaps break a leg or wing.  All was going well until Mr. Cardinal came swooping across the yard with a huge caterpillar in his beak.  Proud as punch to show off a little to his young ones, and to let them share the worm as a little afternoon repast.

The youngest daughter was not quite as proficient in her flying skills as the others were, and could not quite get the gist of landing and grabbing the limb with her feet while still balancing herself with her outspread wings.  Just as she took flight, she saw her father from the corner of her eye.  Reaching the branch she was aiming for, she grabbed hold, only to forget to spread her wings and she tumbled to the rocks far below.

Dropping the much sought after caterpillar, Mr. Cardinal flew to his darling daughter’s side.  She lay there with eyes closed, her tiny heart beat one last beat, as she sighed and swallowed her final breath.  Groaning with despair, he covered her slight body with his wing; bent with grief and pain.  Feeling the swish of air as his wife joined him; Mr. Cardinal gave one huge sob of sorrow.

Turning tear drenched eyes to Mrs. Cardinal, he whispered raggedly, “It is all my fault, it is all my fault.”

Struggling to contain her own deep sorrow, Mrs. Cardinal knew that the moment was critical to salvage her poor husband’s soul.  Pushing up close against him, she laid her head on his strong shoulder.  “My dear,” she murmured, “it was no one’s fault.  Only God in His infinite mercy could have saved this one.  He must surely have need of her in glory to have taken her so soon.  Come now, let us cover her with cedar and leave her in peace.”

Carefully they broke off fragrant pieces of cedar bough and placed them over their little one.  Standing side by side in a moment of silence and prayer, they then flew to their nest where their other two young ones waited with huge eyes; waiting for their mother and father to assure them that all was well.

To be continued. . .