On the nature of daylight and mourning doves

Climate change, loss, change, and love

They arrived last April. I was studying for my CISM full-time. Having just terminated my contract. I was finally going after MY dream. MY goal. And I was determined to do it.

When they showed up.

First the male. Then the female. I was busily trying to figure out cross-site scripting and SQL and brute-force attacks, when I saw a flutter of wings, and then there they were.

These two mourning doves sitting on my patio. At first I sat there stunned. Literally no birds had landed on my patio in like a decade. I’m not kidding.

I watched them for a minute, frozen at my desk. Waiting for them to take off, and fly away into the great unknown.

They did not.

They stayed. First for an hour. Then a few hours. I watched them again the next day. And the next. Until a few days later, they started coming back with twigs. It was as if they’d been checking out the new real estate, and the female looked at the male and said ‘Honey, I like this one. Let’s take it’.

I mean it’s my patio. But clearly I’d just rented/leased it out to a new couple.

A new, brooding couple.

For a week, I watched, breath-taken, as this mourning dove couple built a tiny nest. I marvelled at the simplicity of it. And then I was beyond amazed, when I saw a tiny egg had been lied. I cried — I’ll be totally honest with you — I totally cried that one out.

And then, I went silent. When the mother left the egg there alone, that first night.

My heart began to break. It wasn’t going to happen here. She changed her mind. This wasn’t the right place. The right home. The right heart.

I made peace with this, and carried on with my CISM studying.

But she came back the next morning, and sat on the egg. And my heart broke a little more. ‘Knowing’ she was likely sitting on an empty egg now.

She would go on to lay one more egg. And I watched, crestfallen, at this newest addition.

And I kept on studying. And watching.

Days went by. The couple continued to return. I continued to study. And watch.

When about a week later (or thereabouts), I saw the mum making quite the fuss. Always checking under her, and fluttering and readjusting herself. She did this for hours — to the point I thought something was definitely wrong with her.

I went as close as I could. And to my surprise, a tiny beak popped up from under her.

And this time I cried HARD. That first egg had made it.

A second tiny beak would come out a day later.

Over the next few months, the couple went on to have 3 successful broods on my patio. And with each brood, my heart burst with love.

Watching life being born, growing, surviving, succeeding and thriving where I live, is completely priceless. Utterly, totally, priceless.

I do not regret terminating my contract. I do not regret focusing full-time on MY goals and MY dreams.

All of it has been worth it, to live the life I have always wanted to live. The life I lead now.

They arrived in February, this year. 2 months far too early, for babies to survive. But what do I know? I thought the same thing last year when the mum left her egg alone for the night.

With me.

Climate change is here. Everything is blooming earlier, we’ve likely had the warmest February on record, globally.

That means change is here. For all of us. It’s no longer going to wait for you or I to be ready for it. No matter how much we resist change.

For those of us mums who have lost babies during pregnancy, I am very sorry for your loss. It’s so tough. I have no words of comfort. And, you are not alone. If you are in Ontario, Canada, you can reach out to the PAIL Network for support, should you need it.

I’m watching them now as I write this. My little mourning dove couple. While I am living the life I’ve always wanted to live, right now. Going after my passions, the things that make me happy, and sharing that with the world.

Apparently, the spiritual meaning of seeing two mourning doves is:

“Doves mate for life and are considered a symbol of lasting love,” Kathy Harmon-Luber.

That little couple out there have rented out/leased (probably in their mind outright bought) my patio and are quietly turning it into one big nursery for their kids.

And I couldn’t be happier with this development.

The truth is — none of us know what’s truly going on right now, with climate change. No one person has the right answer. If anything, all of us have it right. And all of us have it wrong. Because all of us, are experiencing it.

Maybe those mourning doves know something, can sense something, feel something, I cannot. Maybe that’s why they’re out there building a nest so soon. Maybe there was a reason she left her egg with me last year, for the night.

There are other forces at work in this world, than the ones we think we know.

Here’s what I do know though.

What I’ve learned in this storied life of mine so far, is that no matter what you go through, life will still find its way to you. You don’t have to rush yourself. When it’s time, you will know. Life and love will find you, when it’s time.