An article in National Geographic several years ago
provided a penetrating
picture of a mother's love. After a forest fire in Yellowstone National
Park,
forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's
damage.
One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched
statuesquely on
the ground at the base of a tree.
Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over
the bird with a stick.
When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead
mother's
wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had
carried
her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her
wings,
instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have
flown
to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had
arrived
and the heat had singed her small body, the mother had remained
steadfast.
Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings
would live
Go on to What's In a
Name?
Return to 7 March 1999 Issue
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