Shortly after Glory's encounter with Tommy she might have flown into a large glass window. She had difficulty perching to sleep, and I fabricated a special bed on which she could sleep. Her balance was affected and she could not perch while sleeping and would thrash around the bottom of the cage during the night. I fitted the sides of the cage with Plexiglas to minimize damage to her wing feathers. Finally she was able to perch normally, but it would take some time for her feathers to grow out again. She had a full recovery finally.

With her new feathers Glory was a beautiful dove. She would occasionally fly in the yard, which is covered with a canopy of oak trees. Upon returning to the table she would often land on my head and then hop onto my finger for placement on the table.

In mid-October Glory returned to the wild. It was an unplanned return. After a 50-mile bicycle ride I was reading the newspaper at the picnic table while Glory was on the table sunning herself. A small red-tailed hawk descended out of one of the oak trees grabbing Glory. The young hawk could barely get into the air with Glory. I grabbed my bicycle and gave pursuit down the street. The hawk landed on the camper shell of a small truck with Glory struggling to free herself. Glory managed to free herself and the hawk was suddenly face to face with me shouting and waving my arms. Glory took off to the south and the hawk took off to the east. I circled the block on my bicycle for several minutes, but I could not locate Glory. An investigation of the feathers Glory dropped in the incident revealed no blood. The hawks throngs apparently did not reach her flesh through her wing feathers.

The following week was often spent searching for signs of Glory, and observing the many doves native to my neighborhood. One of the things Glory had not learned was where to get water other than out of the cat's bowl on the table. About three weeks later I saw Glory again on the ground near the picnic table gathering grits and some of the seeds still remaining. I continued to leave food out for her. I would see her occasionally and finally a couple of months later with her mate. That I took as a measure of success in raising Glory. It is Spring 2003 now and the doves are building nests in my oak trees. One of the nests fell near the picnic table. Doves are noted for making very flimsy nests. I awaken each morning to their calling sounds. Glory and her mate are now raising their offspring. On June 5, 2003, Glory allowed me to watch her gathering food and material for their nest.

Above is the last picture of Glory taken the day before her return to nature. She is perched atop the screen of my DOS labtop with which I compose my school handouts using WordStar 7.0. Note that her head and wing feathers are fully re-grown and her tail feathers are nearly complete.

Ironically I had raised a mourning dove with the assistance of my mother some 50 years earlier while a child in Chowchilla, CA. My father and I had found it along side one of the farm roads, and we brought it home. That first dove had also fallen from its nest. Once it grew and could fly I would release it in the morning and take it back in at evening. It would spend the night roosting in my bedroom, and each morning I would cleanup and replace the newspaper below the roost. I also had cats at that time and one tabby was also named Skeeter. Odd how things go in cycles?