WINGS AND WINDOWS

As the mourning doves' wings whispered gently against our kitchen window, I couldn't help but be reminded of a time many, many years ago in my grandmother's kitchen.



It was a time when grammies didn't work, wore dresses and aprons, cleaned the tops of the coal stoves with emery paper until they shone and baked raisin puff, drop cookies and cooked pumpkin jam. On day, as I played on the oil-clothed floor, I heard a thud and turned my head toward the window. My grandmother gasped and looked at me. "Did you see that?" she asked.

"What?" I answered, as I got up to have a look.

"A bird hit the window! That means there is going to be a death in the family," she imparted.

As I looked out the window, there it was; little sparrow lying on the step, beak gaping, eyes staring and breaths diminishing.

"Is it really true that someone is going to die, Grammie?" I anxiously quizzed.

She responded, "That's what THEY SAY."

I really can't remember if any family member died due to the bird's collision but I do know that in the 45 years since then, quite a few relatives have passed on so it may be true!



Last summer, I decided I wanted a ledge bird feeder for my kitchen window. Gerry and I went to the workshop and he whipped one up in about 10 minutes and installed it just outside my kitchen window so I could enjoy the jays, chickadees, etc., at close range. After I poured some seeds in it, it was no time until the birds started to flock to it. I had to remain still when they were feeding, lest they would become startled and fly away. It gave me a wonderful opportunity to see these amazing creatures at close range.

Recently, mourning doves began to visit. In fact, the other day, one just sat in the feeder, watching me as I went about performing kitchenly duties. It sat there a long time before spreading its wings and coasting to the top of the garden shed. Lately, there have been three doves in the feeder. I move around the kitchen freely as they watch. When they want some seeds they jostle each other, jockeying for the best position in the feeder. Their wings gently brush the window over and over again. They scramble around, pecking at each other unaware that I am watching them and thinking of that day, long ago. A day of Grammie, a bird and a window.