to have offspring

Today a baby bird lay dead on our front walk. It was so tiny, curled up like it just came from the egg, its eyes not yet able to open, a patch of fuzz on its tiny wing. Maybe a robin--a mama robin hopped around and didn't go far when I came close. She picked up worms off the driveway and they squirmed in her mouth. I watched her and waited to see where her nest was but she just kept messing with the worms. After awhile I scooped up the dead baby and he lay in the palm of my gardening glove, curled up no bigger than a quarter. I carried him to the back bushes and lay him under a tree. Having Clark with me so little makes me ache about the bird. Sometimes I look at C and I wonder about the children in the world that aren't loved or cared for and I wonder what it is that makes us care for our young. Even people who don't want to, who don't want children, most of them feed and comfort their babies. I suppose there's no answer other than instinct. All animals do it--it sometimes seems strange to me. C was sleeping inside while that mama bird hopped around wondering what happened to her baby.