A year ago June, my son Alan graduated from high school and left immediately for a summer job aboard an Alaska fishing boat. With my daughter already living in Chicago, my husband and I were now officially “empty nesters”.

But not for long… As matter of fact, no more than a couple of hours.

That afternoon, after dropping Alan off at the airport to start his summer adventure / job, we went to our local Vons to do our grocery shopping for the week. We were both feeling down, and my hubby was teasing me about our “empty nest”.

On the way out of the store, I noticed a white and camel colored dove sitting on the grassy median next to our car. It was in sorry shape. The dove had only two tail feathers. It was also missing a strip of feathers down the top of its head to the base of its neck. It looked like a reverse mohawk. This poor bird must have had quite the misadventure.

I sit down in my car and as I waited for my husband to put the grocery cart away, the bird waddles over to stand next to my open car door. The bird cocks its head at me and totally checks me out. Its behavior is a bit unusual; wild birds aren’t normally so bold. It persists in staring at me so I start to talk nonsense to it. The bird bobs its head and seems quite happy with the attention. She then surprises the daylights out of me by taking off and LANDING ON MY CHEST.

So, I am sitting nose to beak with this dove perched on my bosom, when my husband gets in the car and decides to play Captain Obvious, “Mi Reina, do you know you have a dove sitting on your chest?” The dove looks at Mike, then turns around and flutters to perch on the steering wheel. I attempt to carefully pick up the bird when it flutters away to the dashboard and sits it little, almost featherless butt right in the middle of the dash.

Mike and I look at the bird, and then look at each other, “what now…?”

I try to pick up the bird – and it scoots towards the other side of the dash. Mike then tries, and the bird scoots back to the middle. I turn to Mike and say, “The universe must be laughing at us. You were teasing me about our empty nest, and now we are stuck with a crazy, beat up dove in our car.” So we drive home…with the dove on our dashboard, sitting quite contentedly.

We get home and the dove deigns to let me pick her up and carry her into our master bathroom. I put down newspaper and a water dish in a garden tub until I run to the pet store for an appropriate cage and food.

At the pet store, I buy a cage large enough for the dove to extend her wings (thank goodness it was discounted because those suckers aren’t cheap) and some dove seed and go back home and get the bird settled. We decided keep her in the master bathroom because one of the windows looks out into trees where there are always other birds and the light is good all day.

I named the dove “Buffy” after intrepid vampire slayer, seeing as she survived an attempt on her life, but kept her wits and good attitude about her. I thought she was pretty brave to approach a person and bulldoze her way into a home.   She is a friendly, cheerful bird and talks at me all the time.

So Buffy started to heal. It took several months, but all of her feathers grew back in. She is a very pretty dove. I let her out of her cage every afternoon for a couple of hours. She likes to perch in the window and on top of a tall cupboard, which we cover with newspaper so it is easy to clean up. She also likes to sit on the counter and flirt with her reflection in my hand mirror.

I did not realize all of the sounds a dove can make. I was familiar with the typical dove coo, but I was surprised by the variety and type of vocalizations she makes. She squeaks like a doggy squeak toy. She barks. She ululates. She moans. She squawks. And yes, she coos.

Why did I call her agoraphobic? I had hoped to let Buffy heal, and then put the cage out on the back patio with the door open and let her choose to stay or go. Or, as a mockingbird I rescued years ago had done, come and go as she desires. Buffy was NOT happy with this plan. Whenever I tried to move her cage, she had a tizzy fit until I put the cage back in the bathroom. A couple of time we have accidently left the bathroom door open and she flew into my bedroom and had an absolute panic attack; squawking like the world was coming to an end, refusing to land, almost flying into walls – until I walk into the room. She then flies and lands on me (my head usually). I then walk into the bathroom put her back in her cage. When I pick her up, it feels as if her little heart is going to beat right out of her chest, she is so upset.   I stay and talk with her until she settles down.

My son finished out his fishing contract and returned home in September. He had a heck of an adventure and was full of stories. Some of the stories are funny. A few are downright scary. They call the TV show about fishing “The Deadliest Catch” for a good reason. Alan grew a lot.  He definitely had a more mature attitude and deepened sense of independence and responsibility.

In a strange bit of irony, during his time on the boat, a net shackle fall and hit the top of his head. He returned home with a scar and bald spot where they shaved his head to put in stiches. I teased Alan, with a bit of dramatic flair, “My wounded bird has returned to the nest!”   He just rolled his eyes at me and ate his 50^th taco – he returned starving and craving Mexican food. No taco stands or taquerias in Alaska.

Alan also decided Buffy the bird was a cool addition to the family. Mike and I both agree.