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The Maidenhair
by LaVonne Boruk
Seven years the fern hung under the eaves, its fronds hanging down green and as thick as the hair on a dog's back. It had withstood the steaming hot July and August weather, and then the freezing temperatures in February. Then March blustered in bringing its hot sunny days and cold nights with frost. The fern continued to grow, waving off every ill wind that blew, until at last spring arrived, and with it a multitude of birds, looking for a place to build their summer quarters where food could be found in abundance and they would be safe from the neighborhood's roaming cats.
A pair of turtledoves found the Maidenhair on our patio seven years ago. Each spring a pair of turtledoves returns to build their nest. Could it be the offspring of the original pair come back to see their old home place? I like to think so.
This year they were in for a surprise, because Himself had moved the fern, not realizing they had already begun to build their nest within its tangle of limbs. Both doves had left the nest, but came back one at a time. The first one, not finding the construction site where she had left it, perched on top of the latticework rail, looking askance, but not making a sound. She looked this way and that, her little round belly appearing to be full of eggs. She looked as though she would burst if not able to lay her eggs soon. Still she didn't let out a single squawk. Inside the house, I watched from the window.
It seemed as though she was thinking she knew she was in the right place, but where did it go? How could her half-constructed castle have disappeared while she was out searching for more building bricks? Every now and then, when she was sure no one was looking she would peek in the direction it used to be, but she made no move to go closer and explore the area. She was waiting for her mate.
She sat there several minutes before the male came fluttering in and lit beside her. He, too, looked confused. He looked at her, and then turned his eyes to the spot where the fern used to hang in its decorative basket that was such a perfect building site. He appeared anxious, but made no attempt to learn what had happened in his absence. He sat close beside her, almost in mourning, it seemed. He watched and waited with her. I was almost sure I saw a tear fall, but maybe it was a drop of water falling from the eaves.
Then the man, who had taken the fern away, brought it back and hung it on its own little hook again. He came quietly, and left just as quietly, as though he hadn't noticed the unhappy birds in their quandary. The male dove looked at his mate still sitting on the latticework as if to say, "Look, our home is back. Follow me. I will keep you safe from harm." Then with one big flying leap and much fluttering of wings he landed on the rim of the basket, then turned his head and looked back at her still sitting on the rail where she had perched at least ten minutes earlier.
I could swear I heard him say to her, "Come, my love, let's finish building our castle. That man, whoever he is, means us no harm. We will be safe here and you can rid yourself of that heavy load you carry as soon as our bed is made. Let us get started on it now."
She looked at him, sarcasm dripping from her beak. Then turned her head away as if to say, "Foolish! Foolish!" But then she looked back at the male still waiting on the rim of the basket. She realized no harm had come to him. He was so handsome, perched there in all his finery, looking at her, pleading with her to come to him. It was just too much. She longs to go with him.. She knows he will be a good father to their fledglings, and already he has been working hard to build their home. She begins to flutter her wings, and as she does he takes one careful step into the basket to make room for her to land on its rim, and as she does he carefully moves on into the center of the fern, then moves on over to the far side, giving up the most comfortable spot to her.
As soon as she is safely settled inside he flies away again and brings back more twigs and strings and straw. Then she takes her turn while he rests, and they continue taking turns bringing the paneling, the windows, and doors. Then finally the stair steps and the roof are in place.. Then the furniture is moved in and she rests in her soft bed, while he goes out for food. Soon he returns to find four alabaster eggs, which she is keeping warm. He gently steps into their abode, and carefully tiptoes around her. As he moves in, she begins to move out of the nest, and then flies off to find her own food, while he uses his body to keep the eggs warm.
When she has had her fill, she returns to the nest to warm the eggs while he goes once more in search of food and water, and finding the birdbath he dawdles a while getting himself nice and clean. And the cycle repeats, always one or the other is warming the eggs. They are never left unattended.
Their friends have built their castle in the Savannah holly tree just a few feet away. Vegetation, and water are plentiful. They are not afraid of us humans. They let us look into their nests. They are happy to share our patio and our back yard with us, never giving us a backward glance.. They seem to know they are welcome here.
©2000 LaVonne Boruk
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