My daughter Eve and I found a tiny bird egg while digging underneath a Blue Spruce this week. She carefully rolled the white egg over in her small grubby hands, tenderly inspecting each minuscule speckle. Then looking to me for answers. She asked, “Where mommy-daddy bird go?” I could tell she was deeply troubled why the egg was all alone. I explained that the egg must have fallen from the nest and that the family must be somewhere high in the trees. She proceeded to line up the pine cones she had been playing with. Biggest cone became “daddy pine cone” with the slightly smaller pine cone as “mommy pine…