Several months ago there were five nest-building projects around my house and atop the eaves of my roof. I watched one such nest creations in the tree outside one of my windows.
Every day it seemed imperative that I checked the dove project. It was fascinating to view the construction of every twig and loose objects that gave loose construction for the baby. In this case, there was only one egg in the nest. The mother kept vigilance to nurture her offspring. Interestingly, doves produce their own milk to feed their young; mama and perhaps daddy were always nearby.
As I took note of the days and nights, the baby bird appeared with such gentleness and delicate energy. I felt as though we needed to celebrate as this little dove’s head peaked over the rim of the nest.
We had quite a bond as I would talk to this little life at least three times per day. And the dove was never spooked or afraid of my presence that was only three feet from its home.
Its name is Little Guy. It could have been a female. It was fragile and always alone when we would have our chirp-chirp communication. We had an eye-to-eye connection that made me smile.
Little Guy grew and we continued our conversations – somehow it seemed as though our loving bond was special. I had never witnessed such a phenomenal life cycle.
And then, he ventured onto my window sill and sat there for an hour with eye-to-eye contact. No fear, complete trust. He became my feathered friends during these past weeks.
As we enjoyed these quiet moments, the thoughts crossed my mind that perhaps he was telling me goodbye. And with that, he hopped onto a limb and climbed into his nest. Our ritual was cherished.
The following morning, I joyfully checked the dove’s nest in the tree and Little Guy had taken flight. It was always the highlight of my day. Every hour I checked the window and he was nowhere to be found. My day had mixed emotions. He found his strength to take flight and I found my strength to say goodbye.