Blackbird, fly.

I am going to write about this, but I want to make it into a poem at some point. I just need to write it down so I remember it.

This morning, my mum came into my room, waking me up, and telling me to come outside into the garden. There's a blackbird nest in the honeysuckle on our fence, and one of the babies (we think he may be the only one, though) flew out of the nest and got caught on the netting used for the beans we're growing. He struggled for a bit, then fell to the ground, wing held out. He kept flapping, moving around the garden, struggling to fly. He tried to hide; behind a plank of wood, on a rock, in the rose bush... He kept squeaking, waiting for his mother to return.
We decided to leave him. His mother had returned so knew that he had fallen but gone to get more food.

Then this afternoon, we heard a squeaking. I went outside to find the mother sitting on the fence, berry in mouth for her child, trying to squeak in spite of the size of the food protruding from her beak. I watched her, she stood there for a few minutes, squeaking at intervals. She then swallowed the berry, and called louder. After 10 minutes or so, she moved to the roof. Still calling for her child, waiting for the reply to find where he was. After a while, she still flew off, calling. Every now and again I can hear her.
It's heart breaking.
I know, someone is going to say "it's just  bird." Thing is, whatever species, a mother will always have her child as a priority. And that I find both heart warming and heart breaking.

I really hope he is ok...