I started these paintings as a documentation of my experience with the Wren chicks in my back yard. My husband Eric and I would watch them a few times a day. I loved seeing their parents coming and going from the nest with worms and other equally delicious (or not) insects. One morning when we woke up, they were gone. Nest and all! Not wanting to admit to ourselves that there was probably a neighborhood cat licking his chops, Eric and I each formed our own theories. I said “bird rapture.” He said the parents carried each chick to a designated secret location, then went back and picked up the nest. Admittedly, we were probably more annoying to those birds than a crowd of paparazzi to a celebrity. Whatever happened, it is my sad duty to inform you that my paintings are no longer a documentation of the miracle of nature, but a sad eulogy for four unfortunate chicks.
