“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature—nor do the children of humans, as a whole, experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer, in the long run, than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” –Helen Keller

Nestlings grow rapidly, decking themselves out in feathers that eventually must be put to test. Some bird nests, such as those of the thrushes, blackbirds, and robins, quickly become so overcrowded that the nestlings are squeezed out, fluttering to the ground. But birds that nest high in the trees or on cliffs must be able to fly from the moment they launch. Young eagles and hummingbirds spend hours each day beating their wings to strengthen them and begin to get the feel of flight.

Some parents have to persuade their young to leave the nest. Shearwater parents simply stop feeding the young. When the young get hungry enough, they spread their wings and fly. Peregrine parents take the opposite tack: they perch with food just a little ways from the nest and call to the young. The fledglings launch themselves, flapping mightily, and wobble through the air toward the meal.

In much the same way, we all employ a variety of techniques to encourage new growth in ourselves. On some occasions, it seems as though the new ability just pops out and we fly with it, when in fact, we have been nursing it along for quite a while. On other occasions, it may seem to require a full range of carrots and sticks before we see ourselves take wing. Once aloft, though, how we got there doesn’t really matter much. We stretch our wings and take to the sky.