You didn't forget about the hatchlings, did you? They left the nest about three weeks ago on a Saturday. This is a photograph of the first one out. His first stop was the roof of the jeep, and he was so used to having me come right up to him that he just sat still and looked at me as I took his picture.

He was not the largest hatchling to leave the nest, nor, perhaps the best equipped to be on his own. I don't know if he just got tired of his siblings pecking him on the head, if he fell out, or if he was just brave, but either way he was the first one to fledge.

Sometimes I think being unlucky and brave are the same thing, it's just that the world sees it differently. After all, soldiers who wind up captured or behind enemy lines and die or become MIA are considered unlucky, but those who manage to come home are then considered brave. If you get in the wrong place at the wrong time, well, you are just unlucky but then, if you manage to make something out of it, you're brave. Maybe none of us could be brave if we didn't have a little bad luck. Maybe if the nest wasn't so crowded nobody would ever fly.