Growing Up Is Hard To Do

The older I get, the more I appreciate all the hard work youngsters must do just to reach adulthood in a reasonably healthy and stable state. This is true whether the youngster is a miniscule infant crab leaving the realm of plankton, a baby elephant learning its place in the herd or a human teenager preparing to leave for college.

Growing up is hard to do. There’s the safety and warmth of the nest, the den, the home provided by parents, and on the other side, the lure of the world. It’s a scary place, the world, but in order to survive, young ones of all species must step, wiggle, fly, swim, jump, crawl or float outside their comfort zone in order to make lives for themselves.

Growing up is stressful for all involved. The young have no experience to rely on. This can make them bold and sometimes foolish. Parents have some control in their infancy and first stages of growth in some species, but that control is often limited to a time of shared feeding and exploration.

Right now, many young birds and animals are out on their own for the first time here on the Cape. Baby bunnies are everywhere. It’s hard not to get attached. They are so cute and vulnerable. We have had several nests in our yard this summer, but one nest full of babies didn’t make it. A neighbor’s cat found it and well, it wasn’t pretty.

Although I am well aware that young animals and birds are often the prey of natural predators, knowing a neighbor’s well-fed cat tortured and killed four babies and left their bodies uneaten made me angry. A hawk, fox or coyote would have made good use of their finds. I still would have felt sad, but I would have accepted it was part of nature’s plan.

All the young birds that were growing up and learning a few ropes in our yard have flown off now. There was some natural attrition due to a pair of young Cooper’s hawks that decided our yard was a good place to look for dinner, but most seem to have escaped the threat, at least for now.

Survival rates of young birds and animals are actually quite low. Think about the thousands, millions even, of young fish, shellfish, crabs, jellyfish and snails. Most are gobbled up long before they would have reached adulthood, and those that do reach adulthood often feed on the young or eggs of others.

Insects, worms, spiders and other tiny critters also must go through all sorts of dangerous times before reaching maturity, and if we’re looking at the numbers, not many actually make it, at least relative to the number of eggs laid.

For those that make it to adolescence, the world becomes even scarier. Not only must these young ones avoid predation, but they must learn to find food in ways that don’t put them in danger. They also must learn to prepare for the winter. For some, this means they must fatten up for a migration that is instinctual and demands their participation whether it makes sense to them or not. Some may prepare for months of dormancy while others figure out survival in changing temperatures, all without instruction manuals.

Our youngest grandson leaves for college halfway across the country in a week or so. Like most new college students, he has no idea what to expect. He’s visited the school for orientation and has registered for his classes. He’s been a responsible student and a well-rounded kid, so he will do fine. Watching him prepare reminds me of my own departure from home as well as those of his mother and aunt. It’s a perilous, often worrisome time. Youngsters make mistakes, and some mistakes have worse consequences than others. As adults, we can only stand back and hope we’ve taught them well and that they will make good decisions.

There’s a catbird calling quietly in the backyard as I write. I go to the door and watch. I know she has two youngsters in the trees nearby. This is her second brood of the summer. The first brood had two as well and they hung around until recently. I have no idea where they have gone, but I hope they are safe. They had learned how to find food and to avoid danger, at least up to now. Soon it will be time to migrate. I can only wish them well.

The young orioles have also matured enough to be on their own. I still put out orange halves and a few stop by, but less each day. I’ll miss their chatter and perky interactions, but I also know it is time for them to move on.

It’s happening everywhere. As children are getting ready to pick out school clothes and supplies, young foxes are learning to catch mice. Young whales are learning to venture a little farther away from their moms, and young gulls are still yelling at their parents, wanting to be fed. Newly fledged ospreys are learning to fly and dive, though few are catching their own food quite yet. 

It’s a time for celebration and also a time for hope. 

As older people, we know there are risks with every age, every new venture. We’ve learned how to calibrate our own fears and our own comfort levels with risk. We’ve learned these through hard experience in many cases, and we wish less danger, angst, disappointment and disruptions for the young just starting out. 

It’s a tough world out there but the young are free from the worry of their elders. They bring fresh thoughts and creative solutions to their problem solving. Even though not all the things they try will work the way they may anticipate, like the rest of us, they will learn that growing up has its own rewards.