I'm not really much of a mourning person

"It's a sign!"

April 7, 2021
Mourning Dove
Photo taken in Fort DeSoto National Park, Florida

Taking full advantage of my self-unemployed status, I thought it would be fun to do a “year list”. For the uninitiated, that’s where one counts and logs every species of bird one sees in a given year. The book and subsequent film adaptation of The Big Year chronicles how obsessive hotshot birders travel the country to accumulate the highest numbers of species possible. That’s not what I’m up for. I’m just trying to add some excitement to pandemic life. Fifty may be nifty, but it’s also decidedly, shall we say, slow-paced? To give you an idea of my exciting pentagenarian life, the cackling goose and American wigeon I spotted at Trojan Park on my way to the airport on my latest Oregon sojourn marked the 114th and 115th birds spotted thus far this year. Yippee! But I want to focus on the first bird I saw in 2021.

This New Year’s Day, the morning neighborhood walk netted me fifteen species, the first of which was heard before seen. The calm, comforting cooing of the mourning dove provides a most delightful dog walking soundtrack.

Mourning doves are a perfect example of how a common bird can be - oh, so beautiful. The soft, muted tones of the plumage. The faint pastel iridescence along the slender neck and atop its crown, when the sun glimmers just so. The pale blue ring around the eyes. In an effort to better fit in with my fellow humans, I decided this year I needed to be more irrational, thusly I decided to take this bird as an omen for the year. “It’s a sign!”

And the sign was obvious. This would clearly be a year of mourning. Mourning the loss of friends and family who had died last year. My uncles Dick and George, my friend Lee, my associate Jay, and my second mother Vicki, all passed in 2020. Strangely, not a one died of COVID-19.

There’s much to mourn. The upheaval and loss of the business I had built. The friendships that have been strained as I moved across the country to establish a better footing. I think mostly I’ve been mourning the loss of civility. Watching people shrink their worlds down to the size of those who agree with them. Following that strategy, it won’t be long before that world is reduced to a self-righteous kingdom of one - a stuffy studio apartment with scant more room than for one and their pristine collection of perfect opinions, (still in the original packaging!)

Forget mourning. I don’t like this omen. Haven’t we mourned enough already? What was 2020 if it wasn’t an entire year of mourning? This dove will have to be a harbinger of a completely different meaning. How about peace? Isn’t the dove the universal symbol of peace? Yes! The theme for 2021 will be peace. Besides, those close to me know my stance on mourning. As I’ve told many a friend, “Don’t feel bad when I don’t come to your funeral. I’m not really much of a mourning person.” I much prefer making peace with everything. Yes. Let there be peace in the valley.

Afterward:
Pacing the ground beneath my bird feeders yesterday, I witnessed this universal symbol of peace aggressively bull-rush a red-winged blackbird, chasing him off: “good-bye, good riddance, don’t let the door hit you on your tail-feathers on your way back to the marsh!” I don’t know what to make of this obvious sign. I may have to resort to mourning after all. Stay tuned…