I am no bird; and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will.
~ Charlotte Brontë
(Jane Eyre)
The above picture I found on the web… Had to use something to illustrate what I saw this morning!! There are a couple of mourning doves in our neighborhood who love my garden. (Or perhaps even me?) They are so curious and they will often look for seeds, coming very close to me, studying me while I’m weeding. When other folks are about they zip up to the power lines, their wings whistling, and then sit and watch to see what develops in the human world.
This morning when I opened the door and stepped outside there were four birds in the garden. As I was trying to figure out what the two smaller birds were I slowly realized that they must be baby mourning doves! And then the whole family took off together!
Wikipedia says that the squabs “stay nearby to be fed by their father for up to two weeks after fledging.” So, if I’m calculating correctly, they could be about three or four weeks old! We’ve been living here for 17 years and this is the first time I’ve noticed the little ones.
What a wonderful morning!!!
When I read your post this morning it made me think of one of my favorite poets who wrote a beautiful poem about doves and the life lesson she gained from her relationship with them. I wanted to share it with you in light of your “wonderful morning”
MY DOVES
by: Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888)
PPOSITE my chamber window,
On the sunny roof, at play,
High above the city’s tumult,
Flocks of doves sit day by day.
Shining necks and snowy bosoms,
Little rosy, tripping feet,
Twinkling eyes and fluttering wings,
Cooing voices, low and sweet,–
Graceful games and friendly meetings,
Do I daily watch and see.
For these happy little neighbors
Always seem at peace to be.
On my window-ledge, to lure them,
Crumbs of bread I often strew,
And, behind the curtain hiding,
Watch them flutter to and fro.
Soon they cease to fear the giver,
Quick are they to feel my love,
And my alms are freely taken
By the shyest little dove.
In soft flight, they circle downward,
Peep in through the window-pane;
Stretch their gleaming necks to greet me,
Peck and coo, and come again.
Faithful little friends and neighbors,
For no wintry wind or rain,
Household cares or airy pastimes,
Can my loving birds restrain.
Other friends forget, or linger,
But each day I surely know
That my doves will come and leave here
Little footprints in the snow.
So, they teach me the sweet lesson,
That the humblest may give
Help and hope, and in so doing,
Learn the truth by which we live;
For the heart that freely scatters
Simple charities and loves,
Lures home content, and joy, and peace,
Like a soft-winged flock of doves.
And thank you for your encouraging comments to Jamie’s C of M page.
Enjoy the rest of your day!
Thank you, Julie! I’ve never read this lovely poem before… I love their “little rosy, tripping feet.” And they do act like “faithful little friends and neighbors!”
Have you ever been to Louisa May Alcott’s home in Concord, Massachusetts? My daughter and I went a few years ago, so now I can picture Louisa watching and feeding her doves on her window ledge. http://www.louisamayalcott.org/
Which gives me an idea for another blog…
Mourning doves are lovely. I love their call, their who-who. They remind me of my mother, for some strange reason. They awaken my deepest heart.
Kathy, whenever my mourning doves are nearby I know my mother is with me. My grandfather loved them, too, and whenever we would see one in his yard we’d remember my mother, his daughter, together. For most of my life I thought they were “morning” doves. (Grandfather and I were early birds and we usually saw them in the morning!) It wasn’t until after my mother died I noticed my error when I saw how Grandfather spelled it in a letter…
I love that you and your grandfather both knew your mother was near when you saw the mourning doves (I also didn’t know the correct spelling).
I also love their call – hearing it takes me back to the city of my birth where there were many of them.
Do you have mourning doves in California, Rosie? Thank you so much for coming back here and commenting – rereading this brings back some sweet memories. *hugs*