There is nothing more soothing to me than the gentle cooing of a mourning dove. We hear them often in our yard. They watch over us from the telephone wires. They nestle in nearby trees. They feed upon our garden ground. Tonight one flew and landed upon our rose arbor as I did my evening walk among the garden. I tried to view it as it lay hidden in the new foliage of the climbing bush. I fear I startled the dove however soft my encroachment. I watched as it flew to a tree in our neighbor’s yard.
I remember a few years back when I found a baby dove hidden beneath a shrub in our side yard. It was obviously lost and very alone. We closed the area off the area so that the curiosity of our dogs did not startle or hurt the creature. The next day, I checked out the scene and found an adult dove sitting next to the baby dove. I assumed it was its mother, although I know that the adult male and female share in the care of their young. For two days the older dove sat next to the little dove as if to say I will wait as long as you need before we take wing and fly. The next day both were gone. My heart was pleased. I look up often to the telephone wire or a tree as I hear a dove’s coo and imagine them both there.
There is a certain grace I experience when I watch birds. Like the yellow finch feasting on a dandelion or the hummingbird focused on the center of a flower. Creating sanctuary to encourage their presence is something I work towards. I ordered a nesting shelf for the doves only recently, and our yard is dotted by birdhouses and bird baths in the hopes to attract their company.
I am never disappointed. In fact I feel blessed. Where else you can find a song so beautifully sung than in the garden?