Love is a Voice

I have always wanted to begin a children's book with the following opening line: Love is a voice and a presence in burrow darkness. I first read the quote in a book entitled Sea Birds of the World, text by Ronald Lockley. The quote refers to the bonding which occurs between birds during both mating and parenting seasons. I have read so many books about migratory birds, and I am amazed that a "voice" can be so unique that it is completely distinct among all other voices. According to the book, the sea bird "species is monogamous and usually a pair will remain faithful to each other as long as both shall live. This faithfulness is the result - as it often is in man - of establishing a partnership at the breeding site and successfully raising progeny together....The pair-bond is renewed and maintained at the nest in several stereotyped ways, but principally by individual voice recognition....Love, for these birds, is a voice and a presence in burrow darkness."

Anyone who has ever read a book on writing or attended a writing conference has been exhorted, trained and drilled to find his or her "unique voice." A writer's voice is what distinguishes them from among the thousands of clamoring, chattering, obscure writers in the world. If that voice is authentic or patent enough, then the writer moves from desiring to be heard to desiring to be read. When I become captivated by a certain author, I actually long for his or her next book to be published. Written words simply lay flat on any manuscript page; however, when the writer has a "voice", there is a presence that draws the reader in - almost like time spent with an intimate companion.

I have taken pictures of thousands of shore birds on the beach and have listened to their repetitive calls. Their squawks, chacks, quacks, grunts, chickerings, coos, cries and caws sound like a chorus of indiscriminate gibberish to me, and yet, to the right bird, love is a voice. One morning, I heard a mourning dove cooing outside the upstairs window of my daughter's condo. The dove continued the persistent early morning song, which sounded so forlorn and longing. I decided to raise the blinds, grab my camera and take a picture. Actually, I took several.

The first dove cooing outside my window.

The surprising arrival of the second dove.

Time spent catching up and cooing

...and kissing

...and snuggling

...and more cooing.

Then, the first dove flew away...

and the second dove seemed cooingly content.

Before I read that banding studies have proven that 90 percent of migratory birds are monogamous, a friend of mine told me that doves pair for life. This past week, I have been thinking about love and bonding and life partners. Within a few days of each other, my oldest daughter's first love and my son's first love became engaged to other people. Although both siblings have remained friends with their former companions, the coincidence of the engagements made for some interesting family conversation.

What is even more synchronous is a trip that Aimee and Matt have been planning for weeks. Aimee invited Matt to take a weekend vacation and attend a conference championship football game with her. She and her sister had gone to New York early this year, and it was Matt's turn. The trip seemed out-of-the-blue and unexpected, but every detail fell right into place. I wonder. At a time when they both may be questioning their "voice recognition skills" or the trademark of their own "voice", nothing soothes the wandering soul like a long migratory flight and an afternoon of college football.

Dianne ; )