Our Dove is dead. We only knew her for an hour or so. Maria and I went out to feed the animals around 3 p.m. As we came into the house, we found a dove lying by the back door, as if she was trying to get in.
She was alive, her eyes moved but seemed close to death. She was completely still, as if in complete acceptance. We’ve seen birds and other small animals at the end of their lives. They don’t fight or run.
There were some marks on her stomach that suggested she might have been attacked by a hawk or other predator.
We brought her into the house so she could die a warm and undisturbed death. We put her in a box in the bathroom and covered the box with a book to screen out most of the light.
When Maria went in to check on her, she was dead. We had no illusions about saving her.
Maria took her out under the hydrangea and put her on top of the snow, near where little Gus is buried.
I sometimes refer to our farm as a mother, it teaches me so much about life and death almost every day. Living on a farm has changed me, deeply and for good.
Nature has its own system, it’s own habits and traditions. Nature can be beautiful, and it can be cruel. One comes with the other. I felt bad about the dove, I can’t imagine she was trying to get into our farmhouse, but I’ll never really know.
I am eternally grateful to have these experiences of life and nature. Each ones helps me to grow and feel and learn.
This story brought back sweet memories of a dove years ago that came to my kitchen door to die. We’ve always had wild doves in the yard, and they feed on the seed under the birdfeeder, which is in the side yard several yards from the kitchen door. One day I came around the side of the house and found a dove huddled at the kitchen door. I thought it was strange. It was alive, but obviously not well. I picked it up tenderly and offered water, but it would not drink, and died peacefully in my hands. Your picture brought back vivid memories of that moment years ago. Somehow I like to think that it purposefully came to our door, knowing it would die warm and loved rather than all alone out in the cold yard. Thanks for the memories.
When I was a teenager we lived in a big old house with wardrobes for clothing. one day a pigeon flew into my sister’s bedroom , perching on the wardrobe. We fed it cornflakes up there and give it a water bowl. With a wide open window we thought it would leave, but no, it settled down there even when we chased it around. Finally, we called in an animal inspector. He looked at the pigeon, laughed and said “stop feeding it” sure enough after about 36 hours it turned a cross- looking beady eye at my sister and flew straight out of the window.
Beautiful.
I used to live in the country and heard the cooing of doves all the time. I live in the city now. I didn’t realize how much I missed the doves until I read this.
Thanks Linda, I can’t live too far from nature anymore…I learned my lesson, I appreciate the note..