“Oh my; what sweet water! I must rest now; I
must rest.” Her aching body slid into the shallow
water as she reclined, soaking for what seemed
but a moment and soon she was fast asleep.
Startled out of her slumber, she felt her vigor
returning, her senses stepping out of the fog. Her
first thoughts were of her little ones. “I must get
home; I must get home. My babies need me.”
With great effort she rolled her tired body from
one side to the other in the soothing waters,
soaking up every last ounce of moisture for the
homeward trek.
Her wobbly feet shook and tickled as she stood
erect. She shuddered as her memory returned.
“The accident; yes, I remember now.” A car had
veered in front of her as she was crossing the
street. The forceful blow had knocked the wind
out of her and nicked one of her feet. If she hadn’t
dropped to the ground, she would have been
killed. Close to losing consciousness, she had
wiggled over into a clump of grass on the side of
the street. She lied there for a long time, knowing
she had to find water; the blazing sunlight was
dehydrating her lithe body. She crawled into
the bush and headed for a small pool that she
remembered was nearby.
That’s where this story began, a wounded mother
scrounging food for her little ones on a blistering
hot day, using all her survival skills to recoup
from a hit-and-run accident. Her mind was
clearing now, and after flexing her body and
limbs, she took comfort in knowing she would
soon be back with her sweet little darlings. With
uplifted spirits and a joyful heart, she soared
home and lived to see another day. Such was the
life of a rock dove in a big city one hot summer
day a few years ago.
(The thought for this story came from a true
experience with an exhausted dove floundering
in my ground-level backyard birdbath, one hot
summer day a few years ago.)
copyright 2010 Jeanne E. Webster
DOZ Magazine July 2018
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