Rites of Spring

The season may not officially change for another week or so, but I declared it Spring the other day, when I noticed that the pigeons had returned.

Last year, you see, there was a mated pair of pigeons who made their nest, not in the shelter of a tree, but on the fire-extinguisher box outside the women's restroom at my office. They're not that weird black-purple slightly greasy-looking color of conventional street pigeons, either, but all over ash and mist grey. Almost like dark doves.

They came back the other day, and I was happy to see them, to watch them watch me as I entered the restroom. Those bird-eyes don't miss a thing.

Yesterday morning, though, our admin assistant, Jon, found the bloodied carcass of the male, lying on the ground in front of our door. One of the stray cats had eviscerated the poor creature.

Mama Bird is still sitting in her nest, and I imagine her waiting for her lost mate, and worrying about the eggs she's carrying. I'm over the top, I know, but she seems so fragile and small without him.

Today, in another declaration of Spring, and because I didn't have any clean socks that matched my oufit, I wore sandals.

I think Mama Bird noticed :)

CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Rites of Spring by Melissa Bartell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.