ways to tell
One way to tell it’s spring, and dawn, is the song of the mourning dove. I first heard him about three weeks ago. I don’t think he’s too nearby, but he’s loud, and about the earliest riser around.
Imagine if we mourned like that. Waking up just before it’s light and keening a lovely, minimal tune for three seconds. Pause, then repeat, for an hour, two. The spaces between the singing feel mournful too because your ear is still tuned to it and waiting for it.
Is my neighborhood dove in mourning? The typical explication is that he is announcing his territory, or calling for a mate. I’m sure that’s true. But he must know how he sounds. I doubt it means nothing. He may mourn. He may startle awake each daybreak. We don’t know how long he sits there before he remembers his duties and flutters to a limb, and starts to call, committed to life’s business, all the while grieving something the other birds don’t know.
Tags: birds, dawn, mourning dove
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