Magic Swing, p 2

 BOLD DOVE

It was early December. Shortly after sunrise the temperature was in the low fifties.

I made a cup of coffee and sat in the porch swing, taking in the morning coolness, and soaking up the brilliant sunlight of the awakening day. I idly watched a group of dove milling around in the grass under the nearest bird feeder. They seemed to be searching, but were not eating.

Suddenly, in unison, they took flight – directly toward me. I sat in awe as three of them landed in the tree, just in front of the porch. Two more then landed on the porch rail – and one brazen individual landed on the porch and walked under the swing in which I sat.

I froze, delighted in the communion, wondering at their apparent lack of fear – what moved them to approach so close?

They remained motionless, staring at me, for perhaps thirty or forty seconds, then dismounted to walk through the flower gardens in the yard. Searching, but not finding. Finally I got their message.

I arose and got the bucket of bird seed and walked to the feeders. They were empty. As I refilled them the hungry birds fluttered nearby.

I wondered how many of my friends I'd dare to tell – that the dove had approached me to insist that I put out some more sunflower seed?

Not very many. So I will be discrete, telling only those closest to me, those who are forgiving of my eccentricities, those who will politely listen without telling me that I am deluded.

Maybe it is delusional — but I choose to believe it anyway.