Since our children have left home, there have just been the two of us in
the house. It’s been quiet. Then we hit on the idea of keeping doves.
(See previous posts 1 & 2.)
So that the doves would recognise our dovecote at home, we took them
through a process known (appropriately) as “homing”. We used a net to keep them cooped up for six
weeks in the dovecote.
The moment for their freedom had arrived at last. Perran, Carenza and
Will joined us for the occasion and our neighbours came across.
Uncertainly, our six snowy doves teetered on the perches of the dovecote
not sure what was expected of them. At last, one or two at a time, they
fluttered up to the roof where the golden afternoon light caught them, then on
into the wild blue yonder, flapping like learners, unaccustomed to the air.
We knew that they should be “homed” by now and come back to roost at
nightfall. But as they departed I found myself wondering “What if they don't?”
I realised that I had recreated for myself a reenactment of the
traumatic moment when the children flew the nest. Old emotions rushed back to the surface.
With the pigeons vanished into the sky, Perran, Carenza and Will left
for their homes.
At nightfall I was able to text them “Four have come back.”
We were both relieved that some had come back and disappointed of course
that not all had returned .
The following day, only three returned.
Nigel and I kept going out anxiously, but however many times we counted,
it only amounted to three doves in the cote.
Finally, on the third evening, a magnificent total of five arrived home,
and it has been five ever since.
Possibly our local sparrowhawk got number six, but I’m not
complaining.
They came back.
