Joy, optimism and a renewed sense of purpose: How an unexpected encounter turned lockdown around

Stress, uncertainty, worry… lockdown was a challenging period for many of us. I, like parents everywhere, was faced with the new experience of home-schooling. And on top of my new responsibilities, I had been unwell with suspected COVID-19. The recovery was long and arduous. With low energy and a lack of normality, I felt a little directionless as lockdown wore on.

There were days when the going was tough. And like most people, I did my best to remain positive, maintain a sense of optimism and try to stay afloat. That was until 6am one July morning when a chance encounter with some robins restored my purpose.

Six little chicks turned my lockdown around and taught me that even in the darkest of days, life gives us moments of light. It’s up to us to notice them and bask in the warmth whenever we can.

I’d love to share with you my story and the lessons I learned – that I’m still learning – as a result. Will you come with me on the journey?

A bird’s nest under attack: you won’t believe what happened next

Eyes flash yellow, a sleek furry body presses low to the ground, but I see him: a cat hunting in the garden. I know what he’s doing. Nestled in the ivy on my fence, is a robins’ nest that I’ve kept an eye on for days. I run into the garden, shouting and waving my arms. The cat flees, but the nest… the nest is on the floor.

A pitiful sight.

The chicks are lying in the grass, defenceless. Their tiny bodies are so frail. They haven’t yet grown feathers and their bones are visible through their paper-thin skin. Tweeting and bobbing their heads they lie helpless, their eyes too young to see the disaster that has befallen them. Blind, naked and without means of protection, the chicks are in need to help. I know what I have to do: I launch a rescue mission.

Robin rescue: I had a duty to help

It’s strange how the most unexpected circumstances force us to take action. I didn’t plan to become a defender of the robins. Yet circumstances meant that the responsibility fell to me. I could ignore the calling, or I could act.

I chose to act.

At first, I tried to pick up the nest and place it back in the ivy. But the cat would know exactly where to find the defenceless chicks. So what could I do? I thought hard. The robins had to survive, there was nothing else for it. The old nest was done, destroyed. It was no longer fit for purpose. The new nest would have to be sturdy, something that would survive another cat encounter…

After hours of trying to fix the old nest, I bought a hamster cage and inside I built a cosy nest. Hungry mouths are a reality to any parent and while I worked, myself and the children tried to feed the chicks using a homemade concoction of worms from the garden.

I placed the nest on the trampoline – it was off the ground and surrounded by a safety net, offering a small amount of protection from predators. Around the homemade shelter, I put blankets to keep the nest warm. In the ivy, the nest was insulated and naturally sheltered. On the trampoline, in the middle of the garden, the new nest was exposed not just to predators but to the elements. I was mindful that if the chicks were going to survive, they would need warmth and shelter as well as protection.

The robins refused to give up – I couldn’t either

While I was putting together the makeshift nest, the parents, who had been away in the morning, kept coming back. They were searching for the chicks, searching for their nest, not understanding why they were not there and what had happened to their home. They were looking in the ivy, where the nest used to be.

At one point, my family and I thought we might try to rear the chicks and were prepared to take them on domestically. We simply didn’t believe that the robins would stick around after the destruction of their home. We were convinced that they would abandon the nest at any second. But they repeatedly looked for the chicks the whole time I was building the nest. We decided that it was the right thing to do to put the chicks in the new nest outside. Even in spite of the risks, it would be better for them.

When I placed the cage outside, with the chicks inside, somehow the robins picked up that this was their (new) nest. Perhaps they could hear the chicks. And while they understood where the chicks were, it took them some time to understand how to access the new nest. All the while, the chicks were waiting for their parents – and their next meal.

I waited to see how the situation would unfold. But something wasn’t right… I had placed five chicks in the new nest. Five chicks. Was that correct?

Wait a minute.

I went back to the grass, to the place where the nest had fallen to the ground.

There was a sixth chick! I couldn’t believe it. The chicks were so tiny that laid on their backs they were almost impossible to see in the grass. When I’d noticed the nest in the ivy earlier, before the chicks had hatched, one of the six eggs was misshapen. I hadn’t questioned it when I only noticed five chicks on the floor as I assumed that the crushed egg did not hatch. Instinct led me back to the grass; thankfully I was able to add the final chick to the nest.

Something bigger than myself turned my mental state around

Luckily, the parents worked out how to access the new nest, through the open cage door. For the rest of the week I was possessed by a need to care for the chicks. From feeling directionless only a few days before, I had an immediate and urgent sense of purpose.

I became a vigilante: I watched, chased the cat away whenever it reappeared, and at night I wrapped the nest in blankets. Perhaps the most surprising thing was when the robins actually communicated with me. Seriously. I know it sounds bizarre, so hear me out.

One morning I was busy in the kitchen, the doors to the garden were wide open. To my amazement the robins, usually very timid creatures, had come into the kitchen and were tweeting frantically. I went out into the garden and sure enough, the cat was there. The robins had some level of trust in me. They could see that I had a useful function for them.

My wife thought I was crazy, obsessed. Eventually my dedication and commitment swept up my wife and children and they were just as enthused as I was. I even went as far as asking the neighbours to keep the cat inside for a few days. I was on a mission, totally tuned into the objective of keeping the chicks alive. That passion, that commitment mobilised the people around me and carried us all forward in one direction.

Maintaining purpose in the face of disaster

With the job I had protecting the robins, I found a new sense of purpose. But it wasn’t all positive. Throughout the ordeal, there were repeated challenges, disappointments, events that knocked the mission back several paces. I had to find a way to maintain focus, to prevent the shadows from eclipsing the sun.

In the end, four out of the six chicks passed away. I tended to the nest daily. Each day that went by, another chick passed. The first loss was heartbreaking. It happened the day after the attack. I went to check the nest in the morning and found the first lifeless chick. It was clear that the encounter with the cat had been too much. There was a scratch across one eye and his head was swollen; he had been fatally wounded in the attack. The injuries, combined with the lack of food while the parents couldn’t work out how to get to him, meant that the infection took hold and ended his short life.

Despite the trouble, despite the daily disappointment of finding another chick deceased, and another, and another, I kept on. I had to.

The day when I discovered that no new chicks had died was like a bolt of lightning. Finally, I could see that there was a step forwards, a tangible reward for my dogged determination. At the end of the week, I noticed that the remaining two chicks had come out of the nest. They were walking around the trampoline, stretching their wings, and flying a little way. The parents were in and out. Within a few hours, one of the chicks had managed to fly over the netting of the trampoline and away.

Still, the final chick struggled on. He could fly a little way, yet couldn’t manage to get far. He wasn’t yet strong enough to fly. He returned to the nest and at night the parents came back too. The next day, the robin chick repeated his exercises of the day before. Eventually he flew to the top of the net and into the garden. Before I knew it, the chick had flown away.

The parents didn’t return to the nest that night, satisfied that their young had flown the nest and that their job was complete.

And who knows? Maybe that last chick to fly away was the one that had been the crushed egg, with no apparent hope…

What 6 little robins taught me, and what I’d like to share with you

1) Notice your limiting beliefs

The egg was crushed. I believed that the sixth egg was damaged, so it couldn’t hatch, and the chick would not survive. Look at the power our beliefs have! They predetermine our reality. I believed that something was beyond hope, so I didn’t question my actions. And yet when I decided to override my original belief, I discovered I was wrong.

Nothing had changed: the information available to me was exactly the same. Yet choosing different actions led to a very different outcome, one that wouldn’t have been possible without me questioning myself.

2) Let nature take its course

At first, when the situation seemed dire, I had been prepared to hand-rear the chicks. When it became apparent that the parents had not abandoned the nest, we decided that the right thing to do was to give the chicks a chance at a normal life with their parents. The biggest lesson for me here, was that we can try our best, we can take many steps to secure a good outcome but at some point we need to step back and allow nature to take its course. We are all part of something bigger. And while we can control some things, and we can influence others, there are times when we have to simply allow events to unfold without pushing too hard.

3) The impact of resilience

The robin parents are one hundred per cent dedicated. Their level of commitment to helping the chicks grow is unbelievable. All day long they work hard, they fly back and forth, searching for food and tending to the chicks. Even when all seemed lost, they kept coming back. Even when a chick died every day for four days in a row, they carried on caring for the others. Even when there was only one chick left, they returned to care for their one remaining chick. Despite all the odds, resilience prevailed.

4) Follow your instincts – it can lead to seemingly impossible realities

Even when a situation seems disastrous – that there can be no possibility of a good outcome – there’s hope. By following their instincts, the robins stumbled across another possibility, which led to a better outcome. Let me explain…

The birds couldn’t rescue the chicks alone. They couldn’t chase away the cat, they couldn’t lift the nest from the ground, and they couldn’t nest on the ground because that would be too risky. Had the robin parents applied this logical risk assessment to the situation, they would have abandoned the nest immediately. They would see the pitiful scene and ask, how on earth could their chicks survive such an ordeal?

But robins aren’t driven by logic, they are driven by instinct. So they kept coming back to the garden, they kept trying to enter the new nest, even when all seemed hopeless, even when they didn’t know how to reach their chicks. By following their instinct and returning to the garden, the robin parents discovered that a new possibility had opened up. Even though a situation made no logical sense, relying on instinct triggered new and exciting realities that wouldn’t have been available had the logical route been taken.

5) The power of purpose

In lockdown, my only purpose was staying afloat. I was in survival mode. Giving a chance to the chicks was a huge boost to my motivation and this sense of purpose made me do extraordinary things. I set an alarm for 4:30 in the morning. I watched for the cat in the hunting hours of daybreak, ready to chase the cat and any other predators away. I took it upon myself to remove the dead chicks from the nest. I had to do it.

The pull of having a purpose, something bigger than myself was incredibly powerful. I felt a sense of restored energy, overwhelming emotion, a feeling of love, and appreciation for life. My encounter with the robins led me to realise that purposeful engagement is all around. It doesn’t have to be a huge thing. Purpose can be found in the smallest, everyday acts, the tiniest lives, the most mundane circumstances.

6) Resourcefulness relies on ADAPTING your intelligence and being FLEXIBLE

Robins and humans don’t share a common language, that much is obvious. Yet I noticed a difference in their communication, depending on what was going on. High-pitched, constant tweeting meant that the cat was near. At those times, I would run into the garden and chase the cat away.

The pragmatism of the robins was astounding. When they came into the kitchen to get my attention, I realised the depth of resilience on show. The robins were using me as a resource. They used their intelligence to work a situation to their advantage. While traditionally they might have been scared of humans, they could see the benefit of collaboration. They asked: “Is this situation working for me? Yes! So let’s leverage that resource without judgement.” In adapting their intelligence, in being flexible in their approach, the robins demonstrated extremely good resourcefulness. They forged a partnership that logic would not otherwise have allowed and received the best payoff possible: life for their offspring.

7) Personal fulfilment does not come without personal risk

When I observed the fledgling stage, I could see that the chicks went through a process. They tried, they failed. They tried. Rested. Failed. Tried again. Their endeavour was full of risk. Not being able to fly properly and being out of the nest made them extremely vulnerable. The cat, or a fox, or any other predator could have come along at any moment and attacked them.

But what was their alternative? To live their days in the nest? They could have stayed in the cage. They could have stayed within the net. No. In taking a risk – trying to fly and eventually flying high enough to go over the safety net of the trampoline – they put their own personal safety, their lives, at risk. Bu the reward was great. Freedom. Living their natural life as they should do. Not being hindered by anything. In taking chances, it meant they could find personal freedom and fulfilment.

2020 doesn’t have to be a write-off

I thought that 2020 had effectively been cancelled. That it would be consigned to the history books as a fallow year. The robin chicks showed me that there were tiny shoots of hope, optimism and lessons to be learned. They showed that underneath the soil was rich, nutritious life waiting to emerge.

What has lockdown taught you?

I wonder… has lockdown taught you anything you weren’t expecting? Perhaps as some doors closed, others opened. Share your experiences. I’d love to hear from you and I’m intrigued to know what unexpected lessons lockdown might have delivered to you.