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There are a lot of birds where we live. I don’t really know their names, but I’ve come to recognize their calls. They seems to relocate within the neighborhood every few weeks. For awhile the screeching jays will be right outside our bedroom window, freaking out at 5 am. Then it will be relatively silent for a few days or a week. The gentle cooing of the doves might even dominate.

The doves. Silly, flightly doves. I feel like the the dove is my spirit animal right now.

I loved seeing them on our little patio. A few times I even saw two of them in the hanging planter or in the jasmine vines next to it. One day I even got a picture.


It looked like a nice enough neighborhood.

But then I didn’t see them for awhile.

Then I forgot to give extra water the hanging basket when the weather heated up. The flowers died and it is now a basket of dried twigs. I took it down on Saturday, intending to replant it, only to discover a dove egg.


Poor, abandoned little egg.

Doves normally lay a clutch of two eggs. I guess this couple got suckered in by the pretty purple blossoms and didn’t discover until after they’d laid the first egg that the prefab home that looked so lovely was in fact completely unstable. And here they thought they were so lucky to avoid all those tedious trips to Home Depot to build the perfect nursery.

I hung the basket back up, but I have not seen the parents. Brutal nature: the egg will not hatch without a parent to nurture it.

Doves are prolific little breeders, laying six to eight (!!) clutches of eggs each year. So it isn’t like the species is going to go extinct. But still, I’m sad. I cried for the little egg, born to such flighty parents.

Spirit animals show up to teach you a lesson. I think this one is pretty obvious. My problem isn’t that I “put all my eggs in one basket.” It is that I’m not patient enough to stay with an idea long enough to let it fully develop before I fly off.


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