So Long, Farewll, Auf Weidersehen, adieu

As with any child that comes into your life at some point they must fly the coop or the Carolina Jasmine as the case may be.

Friday afternoon as I was leaving my office for the weekend, I checked on my dove friend. She sat quietly tending her little brood of doveling eggs, the same as she has done for a couple of weeks.

While she did not seem thrilled to see me, she did not glare at me either and she did not fly at me in a rage with her poop glands aimed at my head. I suspect she might have glared at me, however the dove lacks the ability to glare or cast disparaging looks. With no eyebrows, the dove is stuck with an all purpose blank expression, a lot like Jessica Simpson.

Otherwise, upon the sight of me, she probably would have narrowed her eyes and curled her lips. If she had lips. Another problem. It’s also probably good that doves can’t make gestures. The symbol of peace indeed.

So last night we had another terrible storm. Thunder and lightening and Tornado watches, straight line winds that did damage in other parts of North Carolina. I woke up this morning very concerned for my dove friend. So as soon as I got to work, I carefully crept over to her nest to check on her.

I was surprised and saddened to find that her nest was empty! Very surprised. No dove, no eggs, no feathers. Nothing. Not even a “Dear Holley” note.

I assumed that when the eggs hatched that she would hang around until she saw her young ones out of the nest and then she would fly off into the sunset, but not before she sat on the ledge outside my office window, tapping on the glass with her delicate slender beak and then casting me a knowing and grateful look for all I had done for her. I would dab a tear from my eye with the spreadsheet I’d been working on and wave her off. “Go on you crazy bird,” I would say, “Get out of here! Go see the world!”

And then she would spread her wings to fly, but pause one last time, wink her round black eye at me and then be off. I would rush to the window and wave as she melted into the sky and became a dot in the distance.

Or something like that.

When I told my student worker that the dove was gone, she said she thought it was my fault, that the dove left because I had disturbed her.

Perhaps so. I was a terrible landlord, I know that – nosy and overly interested. I was Mrs. Roper, not in a caftan, but with the frighteningly frizzy hair.

For more than a week she had put up with cold rain, hail and high winds. But it was me dropping in on her and asking all kinds of personal questions that sent her over the edge. She just couldn’t take another day. Perhaps it all became too much and she threw herself in front of a cat. We will never know.

And now (dramatic pause, dropping chin to chest) I must mourn my mourning dove.
No, really. I’ll be fine. (sniff sniff) Carry on. Happy Spring Everyone!