Hey Dove.
Are you mourning?
Or is it just morning?
I've often wondered this when I hear the sweet, low coo-ing of this local bird.
Photo source: adobon.org
The sense behind the sound can joyful, melancholic, subdued, alarmed. I'm not sure if it depends more on my own inner state or the current goings-on in the dove's life.
I used to think it was the morning dove - because I would often hear it in the morning and because that's what someone said its name was (they didn't spell it out or anything). But I would also hear it coo in the evening, frequently when the sun was setting... And I thought "that's ironic, for a morning dove".
I wonder now if in the evening it is calling it's lover home... Or mourning loves lost.
When I found out that it was called the mourning (not morning) dove, I think my perception of its song did change. Hoo, hoo - it sang the same song. I was often pleased to hear it. The sound still reminds me of living in a forest. And those soft moments of pleasure that came with the forest. Like the speckled sun on my skin while I'd walk with purpose, determined to do whatever I was doing, and enjoy the process.
Now, the morning mourning still reminds me of those past sensations. Still, I don't know - I guess I never have - whether the bird sings out for the morning, or because it is mourning. I'd like to ask.
Hey Dove.
Are you mourning?
Or is it just morning?
Disoriented, I ask this in the late afternoon. Reminiscing the landscape of love where I first met this sound, among tall trees and beside a dimming sun.
Sometimes I mourn the losses of trees and lovers past. I sing in that same low tenor, sometimes, in mourning. It can feel like... release.
Maybe that's why the mourning dove is singing, too. To release.
Photo source: Creative Commons
