A beautiful song drifted through the air. Like every morning, the song settled over Lisbon, Connecticut like a coastal fog. The town woke to the golden cords of an American Robin. She sang to her freshly hatched youngsters, who begged for an early breakfast.

Snuggled inside the nest were four adventurous baby boys who jumped around in the small nest, eager to see what awaited them beyond the walls of the nest. Although among the young nestlings was a scrawny little robin. A girl. She pushed her way up and under the safe left wing of her mother. She munched on the leftovers of breakfast while her mother stayed closeby singing her elegant songs over Lisbon.

Everyday the five robins watched the sun climb the sky, then sink back behind the hills. Until the day had come. The day that they fly. The sun was soft and laid low against the pale pink morning sky. The mother robin stood tall atop of the nest, with her wings expanded. One of the anxious boys leaped on top of the nest next to her and mirrored her actions. He struggled for minutes to gain control over his wings. The four others watch intently as the wind swiftly came under his small wings and guided him over Lisbon. His light red chest joined with the sunrise as he disappeared. The next boy took the bold jump off the nest and flew with the breeze. One after another they made the leap, until none were left except the baby girl. She did not make an effort to fly, she was content with her home.

That night as the mother and daughter slept peacefully together, something was lurking at the base of the tree. A fox. The fox was a deep red that blended with the darkness of the night, and the tip of its wavy tail looked as though it had been dipped in a can of wet bright white paint. He made a strong leap to a low hanging branch. He dug his sharp dirty claws into the bark, as not to slip. He gathered his balance and began to soar to the next highest limb. The closer the fox got, the more motivated he became. He could taste the savory meal he would soon catch. The mother and baby robin hop to every corner of the nest looking for a way out. As the fox became a single step away, the mother knew. She knew she has to fly and leave her nest. She glanced back at her sweet child before the wind carried her to safely and showed her robin one last time how to fly.
Then all was quite. The fox danced on the branches watching the baby. Likewise,  the baby watched the fox approche her, only moving centimeters each step, keeping its balance on the slim cracking branch. Then suddenly, the fox hurdled itself onto to nest. He had it! He had it! He opened up his front two paws, only to see nothing was there. The fox looked up into the deep night and saw the faint shadows of a baby bird’s wings flapping away.

The robin had taken the courageous jump from the nest she had never left before. She felt the crisp night air rushing through her feathers. She had never felt such freedom as she soared toward the luminous full moon. The robin flew through the night, until the soft orange sunlight began to fill the sky and take over the darkness of the night. As the day was waking up she heard the sweet whistle of her mother’s song that floated through the air like a colorful kite.