Bird Watcher

A pair of mourning doves has taken up residence under our front hedge. I almost didn’t notice them, since they were so well camouflaged against the concrete backdrop of the porch, nestled in last year’s faded mulch. Early in the week, when I saw them for the first time, I pressed pause on the morning newscast coming through my earbuds and tried to get a good angle for a picture. I was afraid of scaring them away, but they probably would have posed there for hours if I didn’t get too, too close or make too much of a ruckus. They were completely unbothered by me.

A quick internet search makes it clear that doves nest near humans. We’re an excellent, if inadvertent, source of food, mainly from bird seed that falls from feeders. I know you can’t ascribe human traits to animals, but it’s a comfort nonetheless to think that birds choose to be near us. We’re messy. They’re messy. Mourning dove nests are often so loosely woven together that their eggs can be seen through the bottom. We stick together. They are famously monogamous (well, “seasonally monogamous,” but still), living in pairs within small groups. As far as I can tell, the biggest difference between us is the unbothered part.

The mourning doves take care of the business of living and take care of each other. Each morning, first cup of hot coffee in hand, I look under the hedge to check in with the beautiful gray birds. I am still and my mind is quiet. It’s the most un-busy I am all day, as unbothered as I can possibly be. Sometimes now, when nagging thoughts creep in, it helps me to think of the birds, catching a sunbeam under an evergreen hedge.

Holy One,

Thank you for the gifts of care and companionship. Thank you for the privilege of work and the sweetness of rest. Give us open hearts and calm minds.

Amen

Eli is a song leader at Peace, where she feels truly fortunate to share in worship with both of her adult children, lots of longtime friends, and so many people who have found this community of welcome and hope.