It is impossible for me to see only the surface beauty of nature. There is always a deeper meaning to me in all that I see, every leaf, every petal, every raindrop. I am soulfully connected to nature, its healing powers, its lessons, and of course, its unsurpassed awe-striking beauty gifted by a divine being. I can’t imagine seeing it as less. I can’t unsee all of the messages in it.
I usually write of the light, only the happy things, focusing on the positive. Yesterday, though, is still weighing heavily on me, and I think for a reason. What I saw in nature all too strikingly paralleled the ongoing tragedy I have never been brave enough to lend my voice to.
Each season, a mated-for-life pair of loving doves nest within view from my windows. Last year, I got to witness the birth of two babies in my bedroom window bush.
I am always so nervous, don’t want any “circle of life” to bring harm to the eggs or the young ones; I even fear them falling out of the nest.
The female dove has such beautiful coloring, her light-blue rimmed eye peeking at me in peace, it seems, speaks to me so deeply; because I am a freak when it comes to nature and animals, I truly feel she knows I am an ally, a human friend of hers and her family. The father dove very rarely visits the nest, but he is always nearby, seemingly protecting his family; he seems loving, and when he brings something to his mate, it tugs at my heartstrings. I know I am a fool when it comes to sentimentality. But I become attached easily and my emotions are oceans to others’ puddles.
I watched the siblings grow up. I watched them learn to fly. I watched them fly enough away to evade the snake that slithered up the bush to check that nest. Too late.
That dove family stayed in my yard; the little ones grew up. I can’t be positive they are the same ones, but I am fairly certain the family is still here.
This season, the same thing. Only in one of my hanging flower baskets on the patio. She was quite hidden in there, but I recognized her eye. I tried to build trust with her so as to not cause her excessive stress, gently watering her live nest when I watered the other flowers so it would not die and expose her with less coverage. Yes, I even made a cooing sound like it was our secret thing. (I told you I was a freak with nature.)
Yesterday, it was very obvious that they hatched. Unless they hatched previously and they were just now getting rambunctious, but I think I would have noticed. She was up and about; dad came frequently now, even perching on the neighboring hanging flower pot. I could only see one hatchling; I stood on my living room window sills to try to see better. I decided they wouldn’t fall out because of the shape of the sturdy plant, bowl-like. When I went outdoors, I was amazed at how absolutely still the young ones would be with some kind of communication or instinct between mother and baby. I tried to stay indoors for the most part, or at least away from the nest. The family was such a delight to view from my sofa. Once, the young ones were alone and a non-dove came by; I went out and shooed it away.
Yesterday evening, as usual, I let my pup out so we could play together, with the heat of the day subsiding. He seemed to smell the doves, though he did not see them; I shooed him away from the area. He later sped by me and tried to scoop up something in the rocks. I chased him away again, this time indoors, so I could inspect what it was. It was covered in ants. I used a shovel to try to identify the object.
It was the second chick.
Not quite born, I don’t think, as it was still in the egg. My heart sank.
The sight seared me. Not because I am queasy about such things but because of the flood of emotions that hit me. The poor parents. The sibling-less baby. The horror of the wrongness, the irreverence of ants eating it, this precious babe. I saw a miscarriage. I saw human abortion. I saw a brand new life lost both ways. Right there in front of the mother. This one, a heart-wrenching loss to the parents, the sibling. But those ants…they were heartless. And I thought of all of the unborn children whose “mothers” chose to throw them away, discard them, feed them to the ants, pay for it. I mourned for the loss of every babe.
That day, with me, will always remain.
God, bless the unborn
who never got the chance
to further grow;
may they be loved,
have a home.
Help me to lend my voice
to those who need