For the past couple of weeks, a pair of Mourning Doves has been visiting our terrace and the tree that hovers in front of it. I first noticed one of the doves sitting peacefully on the railing; it stayed there for a large part of one afternoon, flying away only when I inched a bit too close as I was watering my plants. After a few days I noticed it on a tree branch nearby; eventually, it was joined by another dove. Those two have been together, and usually well within sight, all week. They sit very close together on the terrace, or in the leaf-padded gutter, or in the tree; they’re never apart. They are quite beautiful, and seem so content just to sit together for hours in front of my crispy, dead plants.
One of them seems a bit rounder than the others; I’ve looked for a nest but haven’t yet found one.
Last night, I dreamed about the birds. They were sitting on the terrace with their backs to me, and they were very large—like the size of small dogs. One was a bright red cardinal. The other was a bright yellow finch of some sort, very fat and squat. I can’t help but see these doves as auspicious somehow—as though this happy pair was somehow drawn to our own quite happy home.