Doves

Yesterday I found a Dove outside the bedroom window. She had evidently hit the glass and broken her neck. Her mate sat cooing in a nearby tree and watched as I carefully tucked her inside a plastic bag. He trailed along behind, tree to roof, calling to her as I walked to the front yard and discarded her body.

I really like Doves. A few years back, a Dove made a tidy nest on a shelf near our back door. It had a deep overhang and looked to be an ideal spot. We gave her a wide berth, using other doors to get to the back yard, and watched her dutifully sit on her nest. Her mate came and went, sitting on the three eggs while she fed herself, sharing the responsibility of parenthood.

One afternoon, without warning, a hawk flew under the awning, slammed into the kitchen windows and snatched the Dove right off her nest, scattering eggs and nesting material everywhere. It paused on the fence momentarily to gain a better grip of the Dove before flying off to enjoy its prey. Her mate returned each day for a week, searching for her, because he expected to find her -- because she'd always been there.

Partners for life! I wonder with human partners if they ever stop worrying about dangers before they happen and build on the moments of their lives believing in each other like that.