Doveland (11 page)

It was 1918. The snow had finally begun to melt, and soon, spring was in the air. The perennials were blooming around the farmhouse and along the road, where the Tumbler was browsing. The farmer once again began tilling the ground for their spring garden. Dove Lillian was busy pruning the invading vines around her door. Clovis became restless, and set out to explore the countryside. Named after German Field Marshall, Von Hindenburg,
the Hindenburg trench line was constructed in 1916-1917 and stretched from the west coast of Belgium through northern France all the way to Switzerland.

Clovis flew away from the battlefield toward an isolated forest in France. It began to lightly rain when he perched on an oak branch stretching out over the road. The United States had entered the war the year before on the side of the allies. Clovis could hear soldiers singing in the distance, but didn't recognize the upcoming flag. He was, however, familiar with the response from yet another call-to-arms arriving in high spirits. The soldiers marched in unison in spite of the muddy road. Left-right-left-right, they continued to march down the road beneath him, singing the lyrics of the same song, again and again. . .

“Over there, Over There, Send the Word

Send the Word to Beware,

It will be all over, we're coming over and we

won't come back until it's over, over there!”

As the infantry division continued their march toward Argonne Forest, Clovis hoped the war would soon be over, and returned to his loft and rested for the night.

Early the next morning, Dove Lillian summoned Clovis.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“The farmer didn't come out of the house yesterday and I think something has happened to him.”

“Don't worry. Maybe he is sick or something.”

“But, Clovis, we haven't seen the farmer's wife either. Her apron is still hanging on the back porch.”

The roller shades were still lowered in the front, so Clovis and Dove Lillian flew around to the back of the house to look inside. The shade in the bedroom was partially opened and they quietly perched outside on the window ledge. The farmer's wife was lying still on the bed in her nightgown and the farmer was sitting beside the bed weeping.

“I got worried yesterday, but I couldn't find you.”

“I was far away from here.”

The farmer rose from his chair and knelt down beside the bed kissing his wife's hand, then her forehead before pulling the sheet over her head. It was clear to Clovis and Dove Lillian that she had passed away.

The farmer came out and went into the wood shed and brought out some lumber to build a coffin. By mid-day, he pulled a long box outside the courtyard area, and proceeded to dig a grave. He remained speechless as the pigeons and doves quietly gathered around the gravesite. As usual, Brushcutter stepped in between Clovis and Dove Lillian.

The grief-stricken farmer went back inside the house and returned with his wife in his arms. Covered by a blanket, she was placed inside the box where the blanket was gently tucked around her body. After securing the top with nails, he pushed the coffin into the ground and buried her. The farmer wiped the tears and sweat from his face, as he leaned on the shovel. “Vaarwel mijn liefde” (Goodbye my love). He whispered.

The farmer was oblivious of his feathered spectators, though Clovis understood why their presence did little to comfort him. Being left alone by a sudden loss was all too familiar. The birds formed a line and each placed a flower stem on the grave of someone who had always taken good care of them.

Clovis watched the farmer leave the gravesite, and lock the gate behind him. Life at Misty Meadows would never be the same, he thought. He would have to look after Dove Lillian from now on. His plan to mate with Dove Lillian began by cleaning out his loft. He arranged a comfortable loose cup of rootlets, moss, and fresh twigs. After creating an open notch in the nest, as always, he stepped out on the perching ledge to inspect his work. There was something missing, he thought. He flew to the roadside and plucked a good luck flower and placed it on the side of the nest.

By late afternoon, the flock had gathered in front of the farmhouse. Clovis was about to face his greatest challenge. Would Dove Lillian accept him as her mate? He announced his arrival by beginning the courtship ritual. Flapping his wings in an upward motion over his back as he moved forward and began strutting
around Dove Lillian, proclaiming his wish for her to be his lifelong mate. Dove Lillian was pleasantly surprised. She remained gracefully poised as he continued performing the mating ritual. Then Clovis stood facing her, and waited for her acceptance. At this point, Brushcutter proceeded to stop the ritual by challenging Clovis, but was held back by the Tumbler.

“You must let Dove Lillian make her choice.”

Dove Lillian moved toward Clovis and gently rubbed her head into his feathered chest. When Clovis opened his beak, she accepted him.

The Tumbler congratulated them, and announced that it was a perfect ritual performed by a perfect match. The community embraced them and welcomed them as mates. Clovis and Dove Lillian flew to a home they would now share.

Lady Dove moved in on Brushcutter. “Hello, pretty boy, I am willing to be your mate.”

“But I always thought she would come around after the war was over,” he said regretfully.

“Clovis gave me the same excuse.”

Brushcutter flew off to be alone, but Lady Dove followed him. She did not give up, and soon they would become lifelong mates. Honey Dove wanted to approach the Tumbler, but she was afraid of rejection. She watched him return to his loft, and she returned to her loft alone, again.

As time went by, Clovis continued to keep vigil, resting his head against the entry door each night. Dove Lillian knew little about the war. “When are you going to stop guarding the door every night, Clovis?”

“When the war is over, Lille.”

Soon, Clovis realized his dream of having a family. Two chicks arrived. Clovis named his son, BoCoo, and Dove Lillian named their daughter, Lilac, after the sweet smelling flowers that grew around their home. Two yellow fuzzy chicks nestled together begging for food. After feeding their young, Clovis and Dove Lillian took turns foraging for food in the distant woodlands.

The chicks soon began bouncing around the nest, flexing their little wings. Soon, fuzz was replaced by feathers, much like their parents. When they were ready to fly, Dove Lillian remained inside with the chicks, and Clovis flew down to the ground and waited.

“Come on, my son,” yelled the proud father.

The community gathered around to greet the newcomers. It was wonderful to have little ones playing in the courtyard. This was a happy time for Clovis and Dove Lillian.

While Dove Lillian took Lilac outside the compound to teach her how to forage for food, Clovis took BoCoo on a flying excursion in France, away from the battlefield of Ypres. Clovis and his son flew higher and higher into the sky. BoCoo flew behind his father then lightly perched on his back, and they soared together with wings unfurled. BoCoo was having the time of his life. “Coo-ooroor!”

They landed on a riverbank deep inside Argonne Forest. While Clovis began browsing, he was unaware that BoCoo had become curious about a combat helmet leaning against the shore. BoCoo leaped up to the rim to investigate and accidentally fell inside, dislodging it into the rapid flow of the river. As the helmet began to twist and turn, BoCoo tried to climb out, but the lining was slippery from stagnant water. Realizing he could not free himself, he became frightened and yelled for his father.

“Papa!”

Hearing his cry, Clovis looked around and noticed the floating helmet tossing and turning in the cross currents of the river. He flew up over the helmet and saw his son trapped inside. Clovis urged him to climb out, but the helmet began to rock with the currents each time he tried, with more water entering the helmet.

“I'm scared, Papa, help!” he gurgled, as his little body began to toss and turn. Clovis tried unsuccessfully to redirect the helmet to the side of the river.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out ahead, soon followed by the familiar sounds of heavy gun artillery. Clovis feared the worst. It was just a matter of time before they would be entering a river gauntlet, and their deadly fate would be sealed.

Helplessly watching his son drown brought such great anguish to Clovis, that he began to envision the helmet swirling in slow motion. He reassured BoCoo that he would not abandon him.

“I cannot save you, but I will not leave you, my son.”

BoCoo became exhausted as he struggled to survive above water. As he prepared to sink for the last time, he looked up at his father and uttered his last word, ‘Papa.'

Unknown to Clovis, two soldiers had slipped down to the bank of the river to fill canteens, and to map out their exact location. They were part of a division of the American Expeditionary Forces who were hunkered down nearby in the woods with less than two hundred men.

One of the soldiers noticed a bird flying frantically over a combat helmet floating downstream, and managed to retrieve the helmet from the moving waters with a nearby tree branch. He gently poured out the water and laid the body of the wet fledgling on the ground. Clovis waited in the distance to witness his son's fate. The soldier gently pressed his finger into the chest of the fledgling, and to his amazement, water spurted from his beak. When BoCoo recovered, he became frightened in the presence of strangers, and immediately joined his father. Clovis remained motionless in awe of the soldier's heroic action, whereby the soldier befriended him.

“Hello, Little Buddy.”

With encroaching sounds of gunfire, his comrade suggested they return immediately to camp.

“Major, sir, we need to get back.”

“Okay Corporal.” They picked up the canteens and headed back. Clovis was grateful to the Major for saving his son, and watched the soldiers disappear into the forest.

On their flight home, Clovis sensed movement in the forest below and made a quick landing. As he scanned the forest floor, he recognized enemy troops on the ground below. Advancing from all directions, the allies would soon be completely surrounded, he thought. BoCoo sensed his father's anxiety, and asked him a question that would renew his patriotic spirit.

“What's the war about, Papa?”

Clovis looked down at the son he almost lost. The answer to that question had eluded him throughout the war. He began to recall images of the war, beginning with the homesick grenadier who tearfully asked the same question; gallant soldiers marching off to war with their banners waving before them; the doomed
troops who ran over the top with the call of a whistle; and the peaceful image of the brave grenadier lying on the battlefield in no man's land. It had to be something far greater than the weapons they carried, he thought; something that existed before the war, and something that would survive the war. He realized it could only be one thing.

“Honor, my son, honor.”

When they arrived home, BoCoo told his mother about the kind soldier who saved him from drowning. Meanwhile, Clovis knew the Major may require his services, and made plans to return to Argonne Forest.

First, he sought out the Tumbler, and found him resting outside the compound.

“Tumbler, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Of course, Clovis, what is it?”

“I want you to take care of my family while I am gone.”

“It has to do with the war, doesn't it?”

“Yes.”

“You know I don't stay any one place very long.”

“I won't be gone long.”

“Okay, you have my word.”

“Thank you, Tumbler.”

“Be careful, my friend.”

Clovis was about to meet his biggest challenge. What would Dove Lillian say. He brought her to the roadside, and told her that his services were needed, and that he would not be in any danger.

“Why you, Clovis?” she sobbed.

He told her how important his family was to him, and reassured her that he would return, and hopefully the war would soon end. As Clovis prepared to leave, Dove Lillian followed closely behind him, begging and clinging. He pulled away from her and leaped into the air. Higher and higher he flew.

“I will wait for you,” she cried out. She watched her mate fly far away, and wondered if she would ever see him again. The Tumbler waited in the distance to comfort her.

Clovis continued his flight into France, returning to the woody hollow in Argonne Forest. The Major's unit was being shelled from all sides. Clovis flew from tree to tree searching for the Major. He found him in a shallow trench writing a message that would inform headquarters of their exact location. The Corporal took their last carrier, MayDay, up to the ridge where she was liberated. Hope for rescue was diminished when the carrier went down shortly after takeoff.

Clovis placed himself strategically near an open carrier pigeon basket and waited for one of the soldiers to notice there was another carrier. A soldier picked him up and searched in a bag for a canister, and quickly fastened it to his leg.

Since the Major had no intention of surrendering, there was still hope when another carrier was brought forward. The Major paused for a moment. This carrier looked like the dove he had seen earlier on the river. He began to scribble yet another message. This
time he ended it with “Take care of Little Buddy.” While the Corporal placed the message inside the canister, Clovis looked down the trench line at the severe casualties. From bandaged head wounds to leg wounds, the injured soldiers still wielded their weapons.

The Major gave Clovis a hand salute.

“Go, with the wings of an eagle!”

The Corporal liberated Clovis at the top of the hill with these desperate words: “You are our last hope.”

Clovis was familiar with the enemy and was fearful that he may not be able to save the troops. After scaling to the top of the forest, he began his treacherous flight. Soaring into the open sky, he became a target of the enemy. The first bullet pierced his chest, and another his covert, compromising his left wing mobility. When another bullet glazed his head, he became temporarily disoriented and began to spiral downward. He flapped his wings rapidly to break his fall, but he experienced numbness in his left leg as he fell two feet short of the ridge.