Friday was a very sad day. My next door neighbour arrived at the back door wondering if I had lost Constance, our white Chicken. Knowing I had just thrown some corn for her in the pen and she was fine I was a little confused as to why she asked. She had discovered an eruption of white feathers and a mauled mess outside her garden gate and assumed that the poor little thing had been Constance. To my horror I discovered it was my little white Dove,Dovey.
I had taken some photos of her a couple of weeks back to post onto my pages here but had not had a chance to download the pictures. She was a really lovely little character that was becoming tamer and tamer by the day. I would scatter a hand full of mixed corn in the stable yard for her every morning and she became so used to this little routine that she would come and look for me and tap on the cat flap for me to come out in the morning. Dovey was the only white Dove left out of eight. The others had been shot by a young reprobate who is no longer part of the farm I am very pleased to say. She was very timid at first but became more trusting by the day.
There was one particular morning when I was a little upset and had been hanging out the washing on the whirligig. She had been perched at the top of it in the centre and would be turned round like a carousel when I needed to make use of a new section of washing line, very sweet. I held out my arm and stretched my finger and called to her. She flapped up quite close to my hand at first about three or four times and then she made contact and came to rest on my fingers. It as was a magical moment and for a second we really connected. As I had been a little sad on that particular morning I saw the incident as a little sign of hope, her being a little Dove and all, now my hope and my Dove have gone.
Butter wouldn't melt and I am sad to say that I think this is the culprit!