Hawks and Doves
This week, a parable took place right in front of me with a hawk and a dove. I’m talking real birds here, not symbols. It seems timely since it happened the week leading up to the celebration of Independence Day.
We’ve had a dove couple nesting in the upper corner of our front porch. One of the birds, we assume the mother, is always on the nest, sitting very calmly. She looks at us when we come and go. We greet her. She does not blink, just notices that the people who live near her nest accept her chosen birthing place.
We did not realize when the babies hatched because they, too, were very quiet. Eventually, we could see them peering over the nest, surveying this world into which they were born. Of course, the world they saw involved four porch chairs, some plants, and a Carolina wren appearing every so often. We never heard a peep.
Occasionally, we’d see a gathering of dove friends in our front yard. They might chat with each other a bit but were not as comfortable with our intrusion as our resident couple was. But we’d hear the coo-coo sounds of the doves’ conversation.
As I took the garbage to put in the can that I’d already pulled to the street for the City sanitation staff to empty, I heard THUD!!! I wasn’t sure what the noise so I turned to see what caused the sound.
I saw a large hawk swooping across my porch. It paused briefly on the empty window frame that defines the border of the porch nearest our neighbor, and flew away. I stood there with my mouth open. After noticing a bloody splat on the outside of my storm door, I immediately went into the house and told my husband that he would not believe what had just happened. I went back outside. That’s when I saw it.
A baby dove that was just getting its feathers was lying on the porch floor with the back half of its little body ripped off.
The doves had lived peacefully for several weeks on our porch. They asked nothing of us and did not make a mess. The bird couple occasionally sat together on the edge of the nest minding their tiny family. And then, with absolutely no warning, a powerful bird decided that it would take life so it could have a meal. But the hawk flew off, having mutilated a family, without even eating the baby. It had killed for nothing. The dove family is now gone. I don’t know what happened, if they left of their own accord or were driven away by power and death.
Our country is living in a time of hawks and doves. Some take and possibly destroy while others go about life, trying to take care of themselves and their families.
Is a country of hawks and doves really the country we want to celebrate?