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Mourning
Doves
My goodness,
you are so fat and plump. Is that why you have become the choice...the
special in recent days? I have tried to wage a battle against that
silent statue, sitting in the thick of leaves. Its eyes searching
and fixing on a prey.
We have faced
off twice (from a distance), and I have won...temporarily...as she
quietly flew deeper into the thick. At last count, Mrs. Cooper has
ambushed three in your family, and one chipmunk...that I know of...although
I have noticed that only one out of the three rabbits remains. I
call him Peter.
Last week,
I watched you escape as she flapped her huge wings over my head
trying to catch the bullet that you had become. That is not the
first time she has chased you across the patio, in a frenzied blurr
before my eyes.
I am delighted
that you and your relatives are now more cautious, arriving early
in the morning and sitting high on branches among the thick of leaves.
You, too, sit very still...searching and waiting. Slowly, one of
your group ventures into the yard as you all appear to be on guard.
One of your members flies to the top of the feeder, looking anxiously
at the ground below.
Yes, your
behavior in recent days has changed. No more sitting on the hill
in the sun for hours. That day has gone. I can only imagine how
horrific it was as many of you sat high in the treetops watching
that slaughter last week. I arrived too late. Little Max, our barking
and growling Feist, tried to tell me that something was very wrong
in our backyard. But, all I could say , as breakfast sizzled on
the stove, was "Good dog, Max. Good dog. You're such a good boy."
That kill
was meant to be. My job was to tearfully remove all traces of the
pile of feathers that had once graced a precious dove.
I used to
say "Stay away from the pit under the high metal feeder, keeping
your beaks to the ground...never looking up or around." But all
that has changed now. I love you all and I am proud to see your
resolve. I have heard some birders say that it is exciting to see
the kill and to take hundreds of pictures. For me, this is not the
case. I prefer to celebrate the beauty of your life, with the kill
remaining in the woods Far from human eyes, except those who would
venture in.
My Cooper's
hawk has become more aggressive in her hunt in the sanctuary. She
sits...attempts an ambush that often succeeds... And she has taken
to chasing for a distance which most Accipiters do not...according
to the experts.
Oh, little
peaceful dove, you must know that your foe is formidable...a magnificent
and cunning hunter. This predator will continue to hunt and to win
when she pleases. For she also battles for existence. Life for us
all will go on. The beauty that I see...pinkish females, and the
greyer-breasted males, in this sanctuary, Shows a will and determination
in the fight and flight for life. A tearful and sorrowful sight
for some of us. Our fearless statue of a foe is also graceful and
beautiful as she hangs in the sky...circling and searching...
For the hawk,
the dove, and for us... the circle continues. May you all hear the
whirr and flutter of a mourning dove.
Marci
Writings by Marci:
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