Hope is the thing with feathers. That is the title and first line of an Emily Dickinson poem. I thought of it when I saw a warbler. A Yellow-rumped Warbler's song coming from the tip of a tree slowed my walk and broadened my gaze.
Then this. Neighbor Nadia texted that a small bird was sitting on her outdoor table. "Come see."
We confirmed that it is a Mourning Dove fledgling. We did not see any injury. Rather, we saw curiosity and a little bird learning new ways of being in the world.
Chick eventually hop-flew to the garden and then away.
Doves are used as symbols of love, peace, or messengers. How sweet for Nadia to have this visit, to wake and find a reminder of love and peace in her home.
And that I get to tell you about it.
