Mourning Doves

I saw a tragedy in the making on the way to work this morning. Two Mourning Doves were busily and apparently happily (I guess birds can be happy--I never really thought about it) building a nest inside the circular tube that extends around the red light of a traffic light at the intersection of First and Lake Street.

I love Mourning Doves. Their cooing on cool mornings always reminds me of my home in Alabama, where they are ubiquitous. I felt terrible for these birds because their fate could not be more clear. The city would never allow them to live in the light, because their nest completely blocks the red stop light from the view of oncoming traffic. So there these birds were, contentedly going about their nest building, probably anticipating the rearing of a brood of chicks as spring turns to summer, completely oblivious to the fact that at some point very soon some city maintenance worker is going to come along and casually pry their nest out of it's cove. All their hard work and anticipation will be unceremoniously destroyed, probably without a second thought. Their fate is cruel and certain, and they will never have any understanding of why this punishment is being visited upon them. But in the meantime they flit happily about, doing only what instinct tells them they must do, totally unaware that forces beyond their comprehension have doomed their efforts from the very start.

I suppose it would be overdramatic of me to suggest that there is a metaphor for our own existence in this little nascent tragedy that I witnessed this morning, but I have to say that there have certainly been times in my life when I could have associate with these ill-fated little birds. Hopefully, like me, they will learn what they can from a bad situation that is mostly not of their own making and find somewhere a little more hospitable for their next nesting project.