FILE 016 The Nestwick Children Leave Home

Classification: Avian

Status: Fledged

Threat Level: Increasingly Mobile

For several weeks, the Society monitored a small nest tucked

safely beneath the porch.

Its residents, collectively known as the Nestwick Children,

spent their days doing what all young birds do:

Eating.

Sleeping.

Growing.

And demanding increasingly unreasonable quantities of

food from two visibly exhausted parents.

Progress reports remained encouraging.

Feathers appeared.

Eyes brightened.

Personal space disappeared entirely.

The children seemed determined to outgrow both the nest

and each other's patience.

Then one morning...

the nest was empty.

Chairman Mortimer noticed first.

He looked once.

Then again.

"Hm."

Huebert joined him beneath the porch.

"Empty."

"So it would appear."

Society of Porch and Garden Affairs

Chief Correspondence Officer Sir Winston the Golden Pup,

M.G.B.S., conducted an independent inspection.

"No departure notice."

"They're birds," said Huebert.

"I am aware."

Chief Security Officer Cooper looked toward the empty

nest.

"Where'd they go?"

No one knew.

For several minutes, the Society regarded the little nest.

It looked strangely small without them.

No one said this aloud.

Then—

SQUAWK.

The Society looked up.

Another demanding cry answered from somewhere beyond

the porch.

Then another.

Mrs. Nestwick flew hurriedly overhead carrying breakfast.

Mr. Nestwick followed shortly behind.

The Nestwick Children, it appeared...

had not left.

They had simply expanded operations.

Over the following days, sightings increased throughout the

garden.

Along the fence.

In the trees.

Hopping one after another along the porch railing.

Onto the chairs.

Across the table.

Occasionally in places where young birds had absolutely no

apparent reason to be.

The nest remained empty.

The porch did not.

Society of Porch and Garden Affairs

Neither did the garden.

The children followed their parents.

They practiced flying.

They practiced landing.

They practiced landing again.

They investigated Society business whether invited or not.

And they continued requesting food...

loudly.

Very loudly.

One afternoon, Chairman Mortimer watched a fledgling

hop along the porch railing.

It stopped directly above him.

Mortimer looked up.

The fledgling looked down.

"Morning, Toad."

"Frog."

The fledgling hopped away.

Mortimer watched it go.

There was a brief silence.

Huebert looked toward him.

"Improvement."

"How?"

"You only corrected him once."

Mortimer considered this.

"I am adapting."

Another squawk sounded from across the garden.

Mr. Nestwick appeared carrying yet another meal.

A fledgling immediately launched itself after him.

Then another.

Then a third.

Chairman Mortimer watched the procession.

"Shouldn't they be feeding themselves by now?"

Society of Porch and Garden Affairs

Huebert considered this.

Another demanding cry echoed across the yard.

"Apparently not."

Mr. Nestwick passed overhead.

Mrs. Nestwick followed shortly afterward.

Neither gentleman commented further.

By the end of the week, the Society had revised its original

assessment.

The Nestwick Children had successfully left the nest.

They had not left home.

There appeared to be a considerable difference.

SOCIETY RESOLUTION

The Society of Porch & Garden Affairs formally recognizes

the successful fledging of the Junior Nestwicks.

The former nest remains vacant.

The surrounding garden...

does not.

All residents are advised that increased mobility should not

be mistaken for increased independence.

Mr. and Mrs. Nestwick have requested this distinction be

entered into the permanent record.