I raise doves and I feed wild ones. Each day this week, a very sick dove came to my door. She walked in circles, stumbled over at times, and had enough strength to fly in short spurts when I attempted to come to close. As days passed, I would get closer, within inches, but she would still fly.
Yesterday morning, she did not come. I went out. Upon returning home, lying on her side at the end of my driveway near the gutter, was her still body. My husband saw her and avoided crushing her body with is tires. I got out, wanting to retrieve her remains to bury her at peace. She was still alive.
Now, she peacefully sleeps, the strength of her body slowly ebbing. Her death is coming, but she will not be under the wheels of a passing car or in the grasp of a hungry…
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