mourning doves | The Direction of Intention

Keeping Vigil [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 25, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve read that mourning doves are “strongly monogamous and often mate for life.” I’ve also read that, when one of the pair dies, “The survivor often sits in a nearby tree or roof and coos repeatedly, calling for a partner that will not answer.”

Lately, each afternoon, the mourning dove arrives to hold its vigil. It sits on the same wire in the same spot. Each day we watch for it and when it arrives, we hold vigil with it. We watch. We know that its partner will not appear. We wait for it to know. It is silent.

“It’s so sad,” Kerri whispers. I nod.

This dove reminds me of the last time I saw my great-aunt Dorothy. Del had died suddenly and she was heartbroken. It was the first and only time I saw this powerful mountain woman wearing a dress. Emerald green. I almost did not recognize her. As a boy I’d followed her up mountains, unable to keep up. In her grief she was barely standing. She passed a few months later; a broken heart.

I had my annual physical yesterday. The doctor asked me if I had a will. Then, she asked if there was someone who knew my wishes. I thought of Kerri waiting for me in the reception area. I answered easily, “Yes.” For a moment I was overcome with gratitude; I have not always been able to answer, “Yes,” so I repeated my answer, “Yes.”

Yes.

Sitting on the examination table, I shifted my weight, the paper crinkled. I thought of the mourning dove, the weight of grief sitting on the wire. Dorothy. Loneliness. Heart break. Gratitude. Kerri waiting for me. The paper crinkled. The doctor listened to my heart.

Today, the mourning dove did not return. We held our vigil for it none-the-less.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOURNING DOVE

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Their Spell [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on April 2, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Had it been my job to name them they would have never been associated with mourning. Instead of sad or haunting, I find the song of mourning doves reassuring. It is soothing. Calming doves. Reassuring doves.

In the spring and summer their song is often the first thing I hear in the morning. While the coffee brews I let Dogga out; I pause at the backdoor and appreciate the cool morning air and the mourning dove serenade. They are quiet heralds of appreciation for all-the-life approaching in the upcoming day.

This year we have a mourning dove couple in residence. I’ve not yet discovered their nest but they are regulars, pecking in the yard. They are daily visitors at the bird-bath-drink-n-spa. They perch on the wires or the roof of the neighbors garage and sing their siren song, spinning a spell of serenity over us as we sit and absorb the sun. Dogga chases them. They squawk and complain but always return when he settles on the deck for a snooze.

In these disconcerting times I am especially appreciative of their spell, their gift of equanimity. Serenity is slippery in the daily dose of malicious chaos but the mourning doves, our singers of tranquility, always bring me home to my heart, slow my breathing, quiet my troubled mind. Magic doves.