Not a good way to start a week. One small round egg smashed by the door.
I have no idea what happened; nor will the Mourning Dove ever be able to tell me. This morning, quite early, my husband said aloud “Who’s knocking at the door?” I’d been drifting in and out of sleep and hadn’t heard a thing.”You were dreaming,” I said. “No one is knocking at the door.”
Perhaps only in nightmares is the truth ever known.
He, or perhaps she, looks a little sadder, a little grayer this morning but perhaps it’s just me. I’ve never been good at handling the harsh realities of needing to eat to live which always means a sacrifice by the smaller and weaker.
Perhaps I will sleep on the porch tonight. Think that would help?
I hope your week has started off a lot brighter than mine.
Saying nothing in particular 
Mourning seems the right word xx
Sadly, the bird has flown away and the nest is empty.
Oh no. Poor momma. Can you imagine how awful it would be to watch that happen to our eggs?
😰
Especially after sitting on it for weeks.
Mourning for animals vs mourning for humans. I know it is not equal as it spills from our hearts. Animals mourn for human companions and humans follow suit for all forms of animals. Does sadness carry a certain quality like fine wines? Yes, I think it does. How would one compare the dog who waits for years at the front door for the dead master, to the mother who loses a child and is forever marked. What quality of sadness are these? The mother eventually might reenter the land of the living, while the dog enfolds the human in every cell of its body in every moment. Do animals dream of humans as humans dream of animals? Can Phillip K. Dick teach us anything about these phenomenon? Was Twain right when he said, the more I learn about people, the more I like my dog. I think he is very correct. Hitler loved dogs and horses, but hated most people. How does that fit in? The Franciscans say it is a misconception that Saint Francis loved animals more than humans. Perhaps, but that is not the image I carry of Saint Francis in my mind. Does it matter that I’m wrong about Saint Francis? No, it doesn’t matter. In fact, everything I’ve written doesn’t matter. As I’ve been writing this to Jan, Birdy and Stormy have lain on my legs, while Happy and Matilda are to my side. It is raining now and the thunder is in the distance and for the first time today I am at peace. I’m writing these thoughts for my dead friend Peter who died in Zambia five years ago today. Peter, who was a quiet force of nature, loved African animals more than people. He was happiest in game parks, sitting by the water watching the animals drink. Duke
Has it been five years since Carol and Peter left? I don’t know if it feels like long ago or just yesterday. Time is kind of nodding off. I worry the birds were there for protection and we let them down. Yesterday was a sad day – both birds are long gone. I don’t even see them on the deck. I’ve let them down.
That’s so sad! With human parenting, we are often not rewarded for our time, effort and love either.
😦 My week’s actually off to a good start and I hope yours gets better quickly! I guess the good (general) news in the sad (specific) news is that there’s no dearth of mourning doves.
Thanks! I’m going to try for a long walk this afternoon. That usually perks me up.
It’s the same for me, although I have to go in the morning or I never get to it, especially now that our hot summer has arrived. 🙂