I am one of those odd people who prefers being in nature to to being surrounded by hoards of humans. Thus by my choice I live as far out in the wilderness as people are allowed to live, while still having reasonably close access to town and city conveniences. I live here with my husband of 47 years, the grandson we raised, a dog, two cats, a pet duck and until just day before yesterday, a white dove.
I manage forest-grown medicinal herbs and grow sun-lovers in my gardens, along with the vegetables. One thing about coming to know the forest is that you learn to listen with all your senses (and any extras you may possess), the better to hear what the world itself has to say. It doesn't speak with vocal chords or communicate in pixels and fast-moving data-packets like we do. Like the language of the Ents, who never say anything that doesn't take a long time to say, one must be patient and open to events-as-puctuation. Among these are what we'd call "omens," the exclamation points of the natural world's body language.
Reading omens is not so hard to do, it's accepting the phrase they punctuate that can be difficult. Much easier to just ignore, pretend to be "hard of hearing," until the event the omen punctuates does come to pass and you recognize you had fair warning.
We awakened Wednesday morning to find our beloved Noel the Christmas Dove dead in her aviary under the livingroom stairs, just weeks away from her 25th birthday. We'd suspected it was coming, happy that she got one last Christmas under her wings before leaving us. But of course that doesn't mean we didn't cry.
Noel was, far as we know, the World's Most Famous Magical Dove. She began starring as the climax of our stage show as soon as she'd developed her first full set of feathers. We'd been hired as Mama and Papa Elf at a seedy little theme park in Cherokee, North Carolina called Santa's Land. The contract specified 5 shows a day (sometimes 6 if the crowds were large, as the little theater only held 150 people). 7 days a week for 6 months straight, Memorial Day to Halloween.
The climax of the show was to choose some kids from the audience, one of which was to be the tree. The tree was placed center stage holding two [fake] tree branches and wearing a hat on which a tripod of [fake] tree branches were secured, with a crooked 'L' hook on top. The other kids were given wands and helped produce the lights and ornaments, which were placed on the kid-tree. The lights were lit to a big "Ta-Da!" before Mama pointed out that it had not been topped. So Papa took the pan and went out to the first few rows to "borrow" some magic ear wax from the kids. Back to center stage to put the lid on the pan and conduct the magic words, then open the pan and out flew Noel.
Noel, on her own initiative and gifted showmanship, took to fluttering up, pausing, then flying out over the audience - just out of their reach - in the darkened theater, to the rear seats and back again to audible gasps and exclamations before settling herself on the crook-perch atop the kid-tree and hold her wings up. Every time. Perfectly. The audiences loved her, she often got wild standing ovations. And when the show was over Mama would move down with Noel on a finger in front of the stage and let the kids pet her gently before leaving. In her years as star/angel of the Christmas show - 2 years at the theme park, more years at malls and Christmas parties and civic Christmas events, she was spoken to by name and lovingly petted by more than 8,000 children. I don't know how many times I was informed most seriously by some in the 4-6 year age group that Noel wasn't really a dove, she was an angel. Many of them have kids of their own now, and still show the photos/videos and tell the stories of Noel the Magical Christmas Dove/Angel. We've heard from some over the years who tell us just that...
Now, we are all familiar with the image of the white dove as a symbol of peace. As opposed to the war-mongering hawk. And this is quite accurate symbolism apart from the things people generally don't know about doves. Doves mate for life. A dove destined to be a pet or working bird like Noel was, must be obtained very young so as to develop that unassailable bond with his/her owner. Wings never need be clipped, as once the bond is forged the dove will invariably return to her owner even when free to fly. My husband/partner had a white dove in college when we were first married, who we named simply "Dove." Dove rode his shoulder as he walked to campus a few blocks away, then flew to a handy tree or shrub just outside the building to wait until class was over. When my husband exited the building Dove predictably flew over to land on his shoulder for the walk home.
In an outdoor rookery, doves will band together and kill any snake that dares slither through the wire seeking eggs. They don't have those hard seed and branch cracking beaks, but they've got good aim, the beaks are sharp, and they make short work of snake-eyes. So we've always been of the firm opinion that the beautiful 'Dove of Peace' isn't nearly the wimp she's been portrayed (by hawks) to be. She's very smart, extremely imaginative and talented, loyal in the ultimate degree unto death, and will fight any serious threat with every ounce of her being and every tool at her disposal. A dove is a highly respectable bird.
So. Our hearts were broken on January 18, 2017 when our beloved Noel died. We buried her in the pet cemetery at the bottom of the yard, in a foil-wrapped Christmas box and accompanied by her [fake] wedding dove 'companion' and her favorite dangle toy. It was a bad, bad omen, and we understand it as such.
On the very same day one of the clips securing the American flag flying over the nation's Capitol building in Washington broke, causing the flag to fall over into the upside-down position. That is the photo atop this diary, taken by David Van Gieson at 9:45am, and which I borrowed from my reporter friend Sue Sturgis. This sure appears to be another bad, bad omen. One that focuses any and all other such omens - including Noel's - onto the seat of government of the United States of America.
We cannot know what troubles will come of Donald Fricking Trump's pResidency. It's certainly not looking very hopeful from here. I have no real hope for these next four years, a lot of trepidation about what could go wrong and what is most likely to go wrong. It won't be fun, but it will be amazing. And no, I am not confident at all that any of us will live through it.
Empires rise, then they inevitably fall. It may well be our turn, and that is very sad too. We were a brave and noble experiment in a new kind of government once upon a time, a government of, by and for "The People." I do hope that when this tragic trial is over the survivors (if there are any) will be able to analyze what went right and what went wrong during our 244 year run. That they'll create something stronger and more resistant to corruption for themselves, if such is possible.
Noel taught thousands of children, across generations, over a quarter of a century, to believe in magic. And she was indeed magic. Believe, children, Mama and Papa Elf wish you the very best of luck. Sadly, you're going to need it.