When Doves Cry

For those of you music aficionados who are soon to be disappointed to discover that this is not a blog post about Prince and his music, here’s a link to the title song. Satisfied? Now, on to a post about doves. Yeah, the birds.

I really meant to protect the baby dove. I had no intention of going all Ozzy Osbourne on the dove, although I had not yet had breakfast. I truly thought I was getting the baby dove out of harm’s way.

I was on a very long, early morning walk yesterday. There was the baby dove, huddled in the middle of the road. I scooped it up and moved it into an area off the road near some mailboxes. It moved around a bit while in my hands, so it seemed relatively healthy. I planned my walking route to pass that spot on my way back home to make sure the dove had moved on.

Only it hadn’t. There it was in the exact same spot. And it sounded like it was crying. Ugh! I vowed to give it some time for the day and the dove to warm a bit and check back. Besides, the local animal shelter would not be open for hours yet. So, I left the baby dove, vowing to return, not knowing the imminent danger to which I had exposed the bird.

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