So sad. I rode my bike to Shorebird Way for the second time, this time in hopes of seeing baby egrets and herons fledge. What I got was probably what happens most of the time in nature. At first I couldn’t see any fledglings, just distracted parents flying around fighting with one another. They seemed completely disinterested in all things child-rearing. Then I spotted an 8 inch tall fluff of feathers with undeveloped wings wobbling on a branch. The next instant, I saw it plummet 60 feet. I was stunned. No adults rushed to its side or even seemed to notice its demise. I couldn’t stand it. After a minute, I made my way over to the ground cover below the looming sycamore trees. At first I couldn’t spot it and was glad. Perhaps it flew when I wasn’t looking. But no, there it lay, its neck at a sickening angle, eyes closed. I crouched by its side and talked to it quietly, tears falling as I felt the unfairness of the end of a life not yet lived. I wondered how many other fledglings had died the same way. I called my friend who has been a big advocate on Google’s campus for egret nesting on Shorebird Way and told her the news. She said that most of the birds seemed to make it but that didn’t take the sting away. Today I watched a video of egret fledglings that a friend had made. Tears welled up again as I watched one make a successful flight. A reminder of the one that didn’t. Forgetting someone after death is often seen as the final death. I didn’t want my wobbly friend to die again.