The village where I was born and raised was completely bucolic, no modern factory within a radius of 20 kilometres. Nature was my companion 24/7.

Turtle Doves were one of the most common feathered species found around the village, after sparrows and swallows. Swallows were migratory. They came and went yearly. Sedentary, turtle doves and sparrows were almost fixtures on the rural landscape. Winter or summer, they were always there. On a wintry day, a turtle dove could still be seen perched on a leafless tree branch.

Charmed by the turtle doves’ coos, I found their soft calls such a balm to my restless young soul. Local folklore has it that their gentle calls are a harbinger of rains. The birds are seldom found solitary, in that a male and a female accompany each other for life. If you see one, very likely the other is just somewhere close by. Their affectionate ways never failed to soothe me in my childhood. Their innocent looks fascinated me, too. Standing close by, you would find a turtle dove eyeing you full of curiosity. Actually, in my hometown, the bird was dubbed Foolish Birds.

Swallows built their mud nest often under the eaves or even in the cottage. Sparrows, for their purpose, exploited holes and cracks in cottage walls. Different from swallows and sparrows, the nest of turtle doves was found in trees. A discreet look would help a beholder to locate it among the foliage. Their nest was the simplest structure in the avian world. Just some twigs casually piled together would make their home.

One spring, my buddies and I detected a turtle dove nest in a tree by the village street. In time one of my buddies went up and saw two eggs laid in the nest. He said he would take the baby birds away after they were hatched.

Weeks later, the birds came out. One day I climbed up the tree and saw the two hatchlings for myself. They were just two masses of flesh, so ugly, featherless. My friends and I decided that we would not snatch the babies until their parents had fed them further.

About the time wheat was being reaped on the farm, we, children of farmers were given a seven-day break to help with the harvest. School broke up and schoolmasters went back for their seasonal labour in the fields for they were farmers too.

One day in the harvest break, I alone went to check on the birds. I did not tell any of my buddies about it because I wanted to adopt the two baby birds for myself. In the tree, to my joy, I found the two ugly masses of flesh had become fledglings. They looked cute and lovely with their beady black eyes. I grabbed them off the nest and brought them home.

In no way would my parents allow me to keep them in the house, so I put the two baby birds in a cardboard box and stashed it away under my bed. At the time, my younger brother and I shared the bedroom. Every day when I was alone at home, I took the birds out of the box and fed them on wheat kernels and water. In time, they became so much attached to me that they would eagerly eat and drink from my hand.

Strangely enough, the two birds were faithfully quiet in the box. For days on end, their existence in the house was not perceived, either by my parents or by my brother.

One night, my brother heard some weird noises rising from under the bed. I had no choice but to tell him about the feathered friends. He promised to help me keep the secret.

Unfortunately, one morning no one was home. Father went back for a backup scythe, and he heard something flip-flapping in the bedroom my brother and I shared. The secret was out.

The moment I confessed, Father commanded me to set the birds free or give them away to other kids right away. A boy called Tian was too happy to be their new master.

In Tian’s yard, the two birds grew up. In the beginning, their wings were clipped lest they should stray. In time, the birds were kind of domesticated. They walked with the poultry about the yard. Even though they were no longer pinioned later on, they did not leave the Tians for the woods.

I often went to Tian’s cottage and watched the two turtle doves pacing elegantly in the yard, pecking here and there. They felt completely at home.

Then the two birds started to flit in the bushes round the cottage, but they did not go away. At the sight of Tian, they would come down from a tree for a treat from his palm.

The story ended bittersweet. One day, the birds went away and did not come back, but they still dwelled around the village. Only occasionally did they return to the elms around Tian’s yard. To Tian’s chagrin, the feathered siblings never ever landed on the ground again, no matter what tempting treats were offered.

Free at last!