I checked the nest every day. Zilma the grotty—but ever so lovely— wild, pigeon was perched there, sometimes sleeping, sometimes staring back at me with laser eyes. Stay away from my babies, they said. I tried to respect her space. But she’d set up the nest right outside of our bedroom window. And those little eggs; two precious, baby pigeons in waiting. How could I not feel excited for her?
One day when I returned to the nest, Zilma was not there. And neither was one of the eggs.
Where did it go? Surely it hadn’t hatched yet. Did she destroy it, knowing the life that grew within was not viable? Did she accidentally knock it from its perch? Or did one of the not-so-friendly neighbourhood birds snatch it away. My imagination ran wild. Whatever the case, I felt sorry for poor Zilma.
But at least she still had the one egg.
Later that day, I checked the nest again. Zilma was back. This time, though, I knew she was warming just one, lonely egg.
A few days later I returned to the window to find a cracked shell. Her baby had hatched! But Zilma was nowhere to be found. Nor was her baby.
Curious, beyond curious.
She couldn’t have flown it off to a second nest could she? I highly doubted it. So, once again, I walked away, shaking my head.
Time went on and,still, Zilma and her baby did not return. The nest remained intact but it had quite clearly been abandoned.
Until the other day, that is, when the moment of all moments happened. Zilma! After the loss of her two little ones, she was back, proudly perched upon two, shiny new eggs!
In fact, she’s there right now.
Growing a little family of pigeons.
I do hope her story has a happy ending, this time.
Two tiny little pigeons, snuggled up to Mummy and chirping their way into my days.
Sounds just lovely, to me.