Easter Egg

For several years, I have observed one and then a pair of buff birds hanging out in the enclosed atrium of my apartment complex. When they fly, the squeak, and I had nicknamed them "The Squeaky Birds." Recently, they began to nest, first in a bookshelf on the south side of the building, near a stairwell, and now, on the north side of the atrium where there is far less foot traffic.

Today, Easter Sunday, an egg appeared. It was not there at noon when I looked over at the empty nest, but by 1:30, one of the two birds was calmly in the nest, and yes, there was an egg. Some of my neighbors are excited that we will become Uncles and Aunts. Myself, I appreciate the poetry of the fact that these bird were using some of the plastic ties that were left behind when the former Property Manger removed a number of rope lights in a huff, as he was on his way out of the job.

No comment on what would have happened had the former manager found the nest. We are appreciative that the Mourning Doves have found a home and are content to let them stay, as we witness the miracle of life happen right outside of our doors, in the protected space at the center of the building we call The Pink Castle.

More to come . . .