An unexpected moaning dove sighting.

I missed posting yesterday. I had decided to spend the long weekend in the country and between getting ready for the trip and attending to other tasks, I had no time to write. This morning, though, I was glad I skipped my usual Friday posting by a day.

Country life demands an entirely different routine and pace of life. Contrary to what city dwellers may think, life is much busier even in a small farm. My first task, then, was to clean the chicken coop. I scattered delicacies in the run to distract the plump chickens. Then I opened the door and entered a little cautiously, having been warned about snakes which like lurking around in coops.

What met my eyes was an entirely different sight—a mourning dove sitting in the nesting box placed higher than the roosts. I expected her to panic and fly straight at me. Instead, she just looked at me. Was she terrified? Was she hurt? I could not say. She never moved when I took a picture of her from a safe distance. I carefully stepped back outside the coop, not knowing what to do.

My better-informed friend entered the coop, careful not to frighten the bird. She must have been petrified because, at lightning speed, she sprung to life. With a series of typical mourning dove titters, she flew straight out of the open door and into the woods. I stood there, wonderstruck by her free life, soaring with the wind in the limitless sky.

As Mary Howitt wrote, “How pleasant the life of a bird must be, Flitting about in each leafy tree; In the leafy trees so broad and tall, Like a green and beautiful palace hall, With its airy chambers light and boon, That open to sun and stars and moon; That open to the bright blue sky, And the frolicsome winds as they wander by…”