Rushing

I have what I think is a family of doves that come to eat out of my bird feeder. It is a simple thing over in the corner of my yard near some windows so I can watch the birds from inside and I enjoy it very much. I get all sorts of birds from woodpeckers in the winter to hummingbirds and tufted titmice, to all sorts of finches, chickadees, cardinals, blue jays, just everything.

I especially enjoy the doves, though. Two are obviously older ones and two are slightly smaller. It is one of the smaller ones that likes to flutter in front of my big living room windows in that upright position that doves do so beautifully. Often it is when I have not remembered to put the food out there on time, so it seems like he is trying to remind me to feed them.

Yesterday I watched him fluttering before me, looking for all the world like some sort of greeting card, or a bird in a children's movie when I remembered I hadn't fed them yet. Without thinking, I grabbed up my scoop of food and rushed out the door. I will never regret anything more. In my rush to go feed them, I startled him and he flew into my window!

I heard him hit. I used to have a big picture window over my pool that ducks flew into during the winter months. That thundering sound reverberating off the glass is one unique to creatures flying into glass with stunning speed and strength, often ending up in their deaths.

Yesterday I stopped when I heard it and found myself in a cascade of small gray and white feathers fluttering down all around me. A strangely surreal experience of raining feathers coupled with the knowledge that this beautiful bird was above me shedding them all over me in this unnatural way. I was in tears.

I knew I had killed him by rushing out and startling him while he was being so lovely and giving me so much joy. I just prayed that he would not die, but I think he did. There are only three doves out there now and none of them is fluttering in front of my window looking at me.

Nothing good ever comes from rushing.