You thought you'd heard the last of Evelyn didn't you, my dear reader? Well, so did I, but on that fateful day she came back. Twice!
That first time was a few hours after I had discovered the empty nest. I was sitting in the living room, enjoying a cup of tea when I heard her cooing. I flew to my bedroom window. Was she back? She was back! There was a second pigeon there. Was this her new beau? A visitor? An enemy? Or perhaps a stranger altogether just as curious as I was about Evelyn in the nest.
More searches have taught me that pigeons apparently mate for life. However, if they lose their partner they are not above finding love again. Unlike many other birds who will pull a 'Romeo and Juliet' if that were to ever happen to them. I'm glad to know Evelyn has more sense than that.
The second time, that day, I noticed her return; she was picking at the nest again. Perhaps preparing it for another try? I watched her do it with a compassionate heart. She seemed sad. Or, was that just me projecting my human feelings on this bird? Another search later I found out that I might not have been all that far off. All kinds of birds can mourn the loss of their babies, pigeons being one them. What's inconclusive, is, if they also do that for unhatched eggs.
After that, I thought that was it. She had accepted the loss and dealt with it in some way. The following morning, however, as I was trying to recall what dreams I had had, I heard cooing outside. Upon hearing this, I snapped right back into awake mode. Was that her again? I drew back the curtain and there she was; sitting in her nest again. My heart gave a little leap. Had she laid again? I stared and stared. She was grooming her feathers and stood for a moment. I peered into the nest. No eggs.
As I stood there, I realised that my sadness hadn't merely been over the fact that the eggs were lost. Nor was it wholly about the missed opportunity of seeing eggs hatch up close for the first time in my life. I had also missed Evelyn. I had started to feel like she was part of my days now. Every evening I'd check if she was still there, brooding. And every morning I lay in bed for a few moments longer just watching her be illuminated by the rising sun.
It would be a while before I'd see her again. Would she keep coming back like this? Every day for a few minutes, only to fly off again to, I don't know where? Was she keeping her nest proper for another try? Only time would reveal the answers.
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