Doveland Read online

  Hunter and Tawney stood inside the archway. They were from the families of Dove Roufous and Ghent. They strolled down the path to the circle mound where Hunter began the mating dance around Tawney. While he flapped his wings over his back, she paused gracefully before pressing her head against his chest. He opened his beak and she reciprocated. Together they leaped away to build their new home.

  The celebration of the homecoming and mating ritual was over, and it was time for the birds to return to their new nests.

  Meanwhile, back in the forest, standing upright over a stump with his flexible neck moving about, Wimpy weasel had been watching the activities at the ground center. His reddish-brown long slender body was about fourteen inches long, the same length of his bushy tail. He liked to eat mice, frogs, and …bird eggs. When Wimpy’s mother emerged from their underground burrow, she found him watching the celebration.

  “We do not bother the birds!” she said firmly, bursting his hungry dream bubble with a hard slap on the head. His mother returned home leaving Wimpy to hunt for food.

  Darkness fell upon the quiet valley as serenades of nature swept across the river to the trees of Doveland. Warm spring breezes strummed through the pines like the lingering chords from the stroke of a harp, sending vibrations from the woodwinds of the forest to the rhythm of the tambourine, performed by the aspens’ tremulous leaves, quaking, clinging. Moonlit waters dressed in frills of white lace waltzed to an endless rhapsody around the shores of the island, as the bird community rested for the night.

  CHAPTER 2

  Unseen by the birds, there were other animals that shared the comfort and safety of the isolated forest garden. Thriving under cover of darkness, these nocturnal animals gathered at the ground center of the threshold and began foraging on leftovers. Browsers and seed eaters, red squirrels, and chipmunks joined in the late night feast, even munching on the archway, slowly pulling it to the ground.

  Wimpy weasel began to eat like a scavenger. Soon, his old archenemy, Hognose, appeared. The popular badger claimed to be the best underground burrower on the island, providing the best dry routes, for a bartered price of course. Hognose stood about two feet high and about thirty inches long with black and white facial stripes, in contrast to his solid grayish coat. He was considered rich by rodent standards, but he disliked Wimpy because he refused to work for his food. Hognose was an omnivore. He preferred frogs and small rodents, but he also enjoyed a variety of berries, nuts, and seeds.

  Soon after his arrival, Hognose became annoyed with Wimpy’s presence and decided to get rid of him by releasing a foul scent into the air. Before long, Wimpy became nauseated by the odor and spit out the remaining food in his mouth. Hognose laughed out loud as he watched Wimpy the weasel run away.

  Wimpy would now have to hunt for food, and that meant work. Unfortunately, poor little Wimpy didn’t find solace at home. His mother admonished him when he returned home with no food for the table. She sent him back out into the dark night, and this time she wanted him to return with at least three mice. She needed to pay Hognose to build an extra burrow for her expanding family. Besides, she wasn’t getting any help at home from Wimpy.

  He obeyed his mother’s orders and set out into the night to find three mice. “Maybe I can find one tonight, one tomorrow night and one the next night!” he muttered as he nosed through the leaves in search of mice holes. “After all, whoever heard of working so hard you had to catch three mice in one night?” He complained as Hognose came to mind. “I bet that ugly badger could, I just bet he could!” Wimpy was up to no good. He ran back to the ground center to see if Hognose was still there. He was. He dashed off to the largest underground burrow on the island. Slithering inside the well-kept burrow, he found three mice tucked inside a root ledge. He convinced himself that Hognose would never miss them, and scurried home.

  Standing at the entrance of his home, his mother greeted him. Looking like quite the trapper, Wimpy stood tall clutching the three mice she had requested. She kissed him on the head three times, one for each mouse.

  Later that evening there was a loud thump outside Wimpy’s home. “Where’s my mice?” roared Hognose. Wimpy’s mother appeared at the door with the stolen mice. Hognose yanked them away from her in anger and left the burrow. Mother weasel turned around to find Wimpy hiding behind her. She was very disappointed and began smacking him all the way out the door.

  “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” he shrieked.

  “Get out and stay out!” she yelled as she threw him out to fend for himself. Still dazed at what just happened, he rubbed his sore head and walked away from the only home he had ever known. Tired of being pushed around, he climbed into a hollow log and fell asleep.

  A radiant sun pillar flickered through the trees the first day following their arrival. Morning greetings increased as the birds awakened and gathered around the ground center of the threshold to visit. Some began their early morning exercise routine of jumping up and down while flexing their wings. However, some new mates had other ideas about how to spend their morning as they made their way to a secluded part of the island.

  Antwerp and Ringdove perched in a flowery rowan tree near the misty bank of the east shore, and talked about their future together.

  “I hope to become a great leader like my father,” declared Antwerp.

  “Our future son will be well prepared to follow you as leader. The Flanders side of the family are well known for their strong leadership and racing abilities.”

  Meanwhile on the south shore, Hunter and Tawney perched on the limb overlooking the valley. A thick mist slow to expire hovered over the trickling waters beneath them. Tawney looked skyward.

  “I would love to see our home from the sky, Hunter.”

  Leaving the island would have never entered Hunter’s mind. Realizing she was more adventurous, he felt the need to rise to her expectations.

  “Okay,” thinking it would be a short harmless trip. No one would ever have to know, he thought. Hunter looked around to be certain no one in the community would see them leave, and they leaped away from the safety of their island home. Upward they flew, high into the sky above the forest and began to circle above their homeland. Tawney marveled at the spectacular view of the hills and valleys, and the white mist that surrounded the trees of Doveland.

  “Look at all the trees!” she exclaimed, overwhelmed by the endless pastoral hills and vales. Hunter found his contentment merely in her happiness.

  “You must promise me one day we will bring our children up here.”

  Hunter promised. As they headed back to the south shore, he cautioned her to fly close behind him to remain unseen. Hunter glided swiftly above the misty river toward the south shore. Suddenly, Tawney screeched and Hunter looked behind him. A large hawk had leaped out of the thick mist below, now hanging in an updraft and hovering over his mate. The hawk wrapped his large talons firmly around Tawney, and flew back toward the deep dark woods.

  “Hunter, help me!” her frightful voice faded with distance. It all happened so fast that Hunter lost track of them at the edge of the woods.

  Hunter entered the empty dark forest, leaping from tree to tree in a desperate search for his mate. There were no more cries to follow, and no sign of his mate. He flew in the direction of subtle crackling sounds, and perched nearby. His worst fear was confirmed. Tawney was being held down by the talons of a large hawk, ripping her apart with his strong beak. Hunter quivered in horror as he watched his mate die from the worst possible death ~ being eaten alive. With her head dangling, he knew she was no longer in pain. “My beautiful Tawney,” he cried. “I’m so sorry.” He watched as the hawk devoured all of her, leaving only blood soaked feathers on the branch as he flew away. Hunter remained in the forest that morning, incapacitated and inconsolable.

  When he did return, he relayed the bad news to Tawney’s father, Ghent, but did not divulge the tragic details of her death.

  “You left the island?” He shouted. “You know the rules!”
>
  Ghent notified Skybird who immediately called for a community gathering. Among the leaders who took their places as members of council were Ghent, the grieving father, and Dove Roufous, who felt his son, Hunter, had brought shame to the family.

  And so, Hunter stood alone before the committee of leaders, waiting to hear his fate. After Skybird announced the sad news involving the death of Tawney, he spoke for the community in offering condolences to the family of his friend, Ghent. Skybird was aware that when rules are broken, the leaders can better assess its strengths and weaknesses.

  “Each member of the community is responsible for protecting his own family, and you must stay vigilant at all times.”

  Hunter displayed a true sense of remorse, looking somewhat lifeless as he stood alone with his head humbly bowed. Skybird used his wisdom to bring the community together following this terrible tragedy.

  “It is my judgment, Hunter, that further punishment would be no greater than the loss you have already suffered.”

  Ghent was disappointed. He felt Hunter was responsible for his daughter’s death, and should be ousted and exposed to the same fate! Although he did not agree with the judgment of Skybird, he remained silent and supported his leadership.

  Hunter was released and returned to the nest that he and his mate were going to share. The memories of her plea for help would haunt him day and night. “Hunter, help me!” and then… visions of her dangling head.

  As he sat motionless in his nest, another dove appeared and perched in the shadows of the branches behind him each day at the same time, waiting and watching over him.

  Another day went by and whispers of the tragic event began to wane as daily activities resumed. Hunter could hear the conversation among the doves gathered around the ground center of the threshold. They spoke of their excitement about the new chicks that would soon be hatched. In another area, pigeons offered singing lessons, while male doves taught mating rituals. Still others had fun imitating bird calls coming from the other side of the river.

  Hunter tried to overcome his grief by envisioning a different outcome… He would respond to Tawney’s adventurous request by letting her know that his first responsibility as her mate was to protect her, and the two of them would return safely to their nest. Oh, if he had only followed the rules!

  On the third day following the tragic death of his mate, Hunter quietly left his nest and returned to the south shore where the nightmare began. Looking toward the sky, he recaptured the memories of that fateful flight. Tawney’s fearless smile as her free-spirited wings folded in and out so gracefully, which brought great joy to him. But, she had found herself with a preserver who would not be capable of saving her life, he thought. He felt he could not return to the nest without her.

  By late afternoon, another dove would discover Hunter’s lifeless body being shuffled about by the waves against the shoreline. Hunter’s father, Dove Roufous, was quickly summoned. Word spread that a dove may have drowned himself.

  As the flock gathered around the south shore, a lone dove appeared in their midst ~ the one that had perched in the shadows of the branches, waiting and watching over him, his mother, Mulberry.

  “Not my Hunter!” she cried.

  The flock stood back as she ran toward Hunter, embracing him with open wings, and gently rubbing his wet feathers as she whispered. “Son, I want to tell you how sorry I am that you lost your mate, and that it wasn’t your fault.”

  Dove Roufous prepared a small furrow in the soil to bury his son, then glanced in Ghent’s direction to share a moment of mutual compassion. As part of the burial ritual, Dove Roufous held the first stone to be dropped into the furrow, as was the custom. He felt he had abandoned his son in time of need, and was unable to release the pebble. Mulberry did not share her mate’s belief that Hunter had shamed the family, but she forgave him by humbly removing the pebble from his beak, and dropping it into the furrow. Together, Dove Roufous and Mulberry sadly departed. The community completed the burial ritual by covering the grave with pebbles.

  Meanwhile, Ghent approached Skybird and murmured respectfully.

  “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

  “It wasn’t the river that killed him, my friend.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Following the tragic deaths of Hunter and Tawney, the birds turned their attention to the little snow white eggs that began to appear in the clutches. Soon-to-be parents took turns guarding the nests. There was little other activity among the doves during this special time.

  Within two to three weeks, yellow fuzzy chicks began to break open their shells. Skybird and Lady Fern were summoned by Antwerp to witness the birth of their grandchildren, along with the family of Flanders. Antwerp and Ringdove watched their clutch closely to see their first young appear. A chick pecked her way out, and began to beg for food.

  “I will call her Posie,” said Ringdove proudly as she huddled over her young and let her chick drink milk from her beak.

  Antwerp hoped for a son and watched diligently as the second egg showed signs of crackling. The little chick pecked its way out of the shell making Antwerp quite honored to be a parent.

  “My son will be called Clovis,” he announced, hoping his birth would make amends between him and his father. Skybird nodded with approval and remained nearby through mealtime.

  Meanwhile the grouse families of Norder and Willow gathered at the ground nest of Duney and Heather to watch more cheepers emerge from the speckled eggs. The first son to hatch was named Homer. Later, the family would welcome Greyhen, Wabbler, Needles, and Wormwood. There was some feather drumming as five birds competed for space in the nest, and the parents were becoming a little overwhelmed and frustrated trying to feed them all. Soon, spats began to erupt between Duney and Heather regarding the newborns. Some chicks would be favored above others. Beginning with the first born, Heather picked on Homer.

  “Look at those large feet! He must be from the chicken side of your family.” Homer looked down at his feet which didn’t see much larger than Greyhen’s. Then Duney complained.

  “Your little Greyhen reminds me of a wild pheasant with all those tiny colored patches!”

  “Why she’s as beautiful as a peacock!” retorted Heather.

  The grandparents returned to their homes as the new parents continued arguing. When Homer leaves his parent’s clutch, he will survive his parent’s quarreling, but not the substance of their conversations.

  Up in the Rock Dove tree, new members of the family were being welcomed by Hawthorn and Tulip. Also perched nearby was the family of Laughing Dove. Rock Dove appeared and made amends with the family of Laughing Dove believing this was a special time for both families. He wanted to meet the newest members of his family tree. Tulip told her father that she had already named the first chick, Squeaker. She was concerned her father may make fun of the other cheeper, but Rock Dove adored the cute fellow with the little flat beak.

  “Would you let me call him Puppyduck?” he asked, as he slightly touched the little fellow with the tip of his wing, bringing on a faint giggle.

  “Yes, father, and thank you for wanting to name him,” she said with tears of joy.

  Rock Dove also visited the new members of Dipper and Duchess: Little Dip and Hazy. These were the most joyous days for the community as it involved all the families.

  But, soon their celebration would be halted by another attack that would fill the community with more fear and grief. Smokejack had arrived from across the river and quietly perched in the shadows of darkness above them, sharpening his talons in a tree in anticipation of his next meal. He waited for the right moment to seize his prey.

  One of the chicks born to Dipper and Duchess was about to become the camp’s next victim. Unsuspecting, Dipper left the nest prematurely to exchange places with Duchess, who was approaching the tree where her young were raising their heads in anticipation of being fed. Without warning, the hawk appeared with the familiar cackling sounds, “Kek-kek-kek,
” as he made a sudden forward dash toward the nest. Duchess witnessed in horror as she watched the hawk pass over her nest and continue his flight back across the river with Little Dip clutched in his talons. The community cringed in silence until the attacker left the campsite. Feeling much sadness over her loss, Duchess placed her wings over her remaining chick, Hazy, and wept.

  Skybird visited the grieving family. He did not call a meeting because the camp had been cautioned many times about the danger of hawks hiding in the trees. Everyone throughout the camp knew they must remain alert at all times and be responsible for their own family. Standing guard over their young became a way of life, but their awareness would not keep the fearless hawks away.

  Several days passed, and the yellow fuzz on the wings of Antwerp’s baby chicks were replaced with shiny brown feathers. Clovis and his sister, Posie, began flexing their wings and bouncing around the nest. Clovis became curious about a white starry flower.

  “Mother, why is there a flower on the side of our nest?”

  “For good luck, son,” she answered, while anticipating the arrival of Antwerp from the woods.

  Finally, Antwerp returned. It was Ringdove’s turn to forage for food. Posie lay asleep while Antwerp gave Clovis flying lessons by gliding around the tree and back.

  “Do it again, Papa!” said Clovis excitedly, flapping his wings up and down as he watched. It looked like so much fun. Smokejack was lurking from high above, looking for his next easy prey. When Antwerp leaped away from the nest a second time, the hawk dashed toward his prey with his usual attack call, “kek-kek-kek.” Clovis looked up and saw a gigantic monster lunging toward him and cringed with fright. Antwerp recognized the cackling sounds and rushed toward the nest just before the hawk arrived, redirecting its flight back out of the forest and across the river. Antwerp had been courageous in saving his son’s life, and remained protectively on the side of the nest, trembling, fluttering.