There is nothing more pleasing to me than the sound of the mourning dove.
This beautiful bird, also known as a turtle dove, seems to follow me. Whether sitting on my deck or in my study or bedroom, on a hike through the woods or gorge, or walking the dogs in the neighborhood, I tend to hear the sad, gentle cry of this bird. Some days I wonder why it is not called the Maya Angelou bird because it has such a soothing voice.
A tree grow through the deck – literally through the deck rail. Nestle tightly in the branch that extends over the deck is a nest built by mourning doves. The nest has been there for years, and is remodeled each Spring.
This Spring, as I was doing some cleaning, I found a huge ball of Flyer’s fur. Instead of tossing it in a trash can I thew it into the wind. The fur landed in the corner of the deck. I returned inside and sat on one of the guest beds in the bedroom off the deck. Within a few minutes, a mourning dove descended to the deck, retrieved the ball of Flyer’s fur, and rose to the branch above to intertwine the fur in its nest.
Our mourning dove in winter
Every morning, from my bedroom window, where I am only about six feet from the next, I can see Flyer’s fur in the nest’s structure. It seems as though dear Flyer is still sharing her beautiful spirit.
The mourning dove’s song is particularly beautiful this morning. What a great sound with which to be greeted… OK, well, actually the first sound was Bailey panting in my ear at 6:30 AM, and Harrigan accompanying her with the little semi-spoken growls for me to get out of bed.
My beloved Flyer
