Available: A Nest for Rent...

 Part-1

Guturgu...guturgu...a sweet sandy tremor spread across the morning as the three syllabic sound wound its way over and across the dense foliage of the flowering cashew tree.  As it continued non-stop and mellotronic, its dune like repetitiveness seemed to take me in its sway. Yet, in a matter of half an hour, my admiration had metamorphosed into restlessness, which in turn was gradually slipping  into irritation. Relinquishing my morning breathing exercises, I stepped out and craned my neck to find the source of the sound. Surprisingly, only a silent scatter of sunlit splashes met my hunter 's eyes. But, as soon as I was back in the living room, guturgu guturgu, it took off again. Determined yet not wanting to harm anything, I stood under the tree and gently tossed a pebble in the direction of the guturguing critter. And lo, magically it stopped. Wings fluttered right above me, taking me aback. I saw it fly out of its concealed spot: light brown and sleek. A female spotted dove. Guilt rose inside me. 'Forgive me my trespasses," a prayer spontaneously escaped my heart. 

Later in the afternoon, the dove couple was observed making a nest. The male dove hauled in bits of hay, leaves, and bark while the mother-to-be busied herself stacking it all around her. Hesitant to impose intrusion on this very private moment between the pair, I let them be. The annoyance felt earlier in the day was quickly superseded by the thrill of having an avian family as our neighbour. 

The next day, we found her sitting royally in what looked like  a rather shallow unfinished nest while her partner fed her goodies: beak to beak! She remained that way for most of the afternoon and evening.

Part-2

In the falling twilight, I see her silhouette, more still than the evening star and more intense than the silence of this evening. So much beauty of the pending parenthood is packed in this moment. The other expectant parent sits and watches over her, a few branches above the incomplete, almost-snug nest.

The nest building continues into the third day. I no longer look up at the sky to catch sight of the kites circling overhead...nor do I look forward to my otherwise much anticipated rencontre with the cat in the wee hours of the morning....For right now, I am just busy wishing the couple a safe passage through parenthood. God speed.

The loud-mouth urbanite can't but foul-mouth the young couple. "They will drive you crazy...one by one their whole clan would  move in and usurp the tree. Their incessant cooing, fluttering, pooping, looping is bound to make you all loopy... within no time the romance of having a birdnest in your immediate vicinity would wear off and you will find yourself calling the pest-control people..." The urbanite is getting all excited as he elaborates on many schemes the city-slickers adopt to keep such pesty critters at bay. The male dove watches us, listening  intently to what is being said. I am suddenly ashamed and want to give the parent and his many immediate concerns their space. "Please don't smoke here...it is not healthy for the mom and might effect the babies," I blurt out just to wrap up our urban guest's senseless ranting. I need to ensure he understands that 'we' are in the family way and delighted over the prospects of a growing clan. 

This is the first time in the last five years that anyone of us has spotted a spotted dove in our neighborhood. My gut feel is the couple has abandoned the polluted, noisy and intolerant neighborhood of urbanscapes, coveting instead the green serene sweet-smelling air of the countryside. Who can blame them for their decision?

On the fourth day, the couple is quiet. The female seems attached to the nest, and happy with the way it is coming along. But, the male is pensive. He would like a more hidden and sheltering shard of wilderness for the clutch. This place doesn't feel safe anymore, especially after the conversation he overheard.

That is the last I see of them. The tree has been comparatively silent since then, suffering may be from the empty-nest syndrome.