It has been a few days since the finches have returned to our house and are gathering tiny pieces of wood and hay to rebuild their old nest, the same nest that they were born in, and lived there until they could fly.
After the departure of the finches, the nest was damaged, one part was crumbled and another part was damaged by the fall wind, nothing much was left. With the return of spring the finches showed up; maybe they were the same fledglings who lived here, they were surprised and sad to see their nest’s condition. Their nest was not like this, it was beautiful, a place of love, life, and happiness; they were raised here and loved it dearly. The finches doubted that this nest was a good place to live again and lay their eggs. Occasionally they would come and visit the nest and leave, but one day they returned and this time sat by their broken nest for a long time and eventually flew away with a loud chirping.
There was no sign of the little finches for a while, but a few days later they returned, each one with a little piece of wood in their mouth. They wanted to rebuild their nest, apparent by their continual hard work each day.
Today when I came back from my trip I saw that their nest was complete, better and prettier than before, maybe even bigger, and one of the finches was sitting in the nest. I couldn’t see inside very clearly, but I thought I saw two tiny eggs there, the parents’ happy gaze telling me the same.
Nowadays, I wake up to the happy songs of the finches.