Have you ever heard the sound of a pigeon crying?
It cries so mournfully.
Coo—coo—coo—
Once past midnight, and again around five in the pre-dawn darkness.
Who would have known this bird cries so wistfully?
I’ve only known them for pathetically flapping their wings without even trying to fly.


The Mourning Dove, a member of the pigeon family, is one of the common birds in North America, often seen perched on power lines or building ledges in New York. While typically active in the morning, this one by my bedroom window chooses to cry on dark, somber nights. Perhaps she’s adjusting her lifestyle to follow nocturnal New Yorkers.


During my middle school years in Korea, I once imagined opening a small rooftop cafe for those awake in the dark of night. As I diligently sorted through my thick English-Korean dictionary, alphabetically arranging the potential english name options for the cafe that resonated with me, I stumbled upon the word "night raven," which meant "bird that cries at night."


Captivated by the slightly rough and awkward literal translation in Korean, the unfamiliar combination of words, and the seemingly poignant story behind the bird, the concept of the bird that cries at night occasionally crossed my mind as a faint memory. Though what I do now for a living is far removed from running a cafe, the bird that cries at night appears in my mind more clearly these days, as she visits my tiny top floor New York apartment, softly crying under the bright moonlight.


It feels like a guest who only visits at night, as if seeking someone to talk to, sharing her tales through the thin window placed between her and I. Despite being a sensitive sleeper, I can't easily shush her away. I feel empathetic for her calm and composed crying, finding myself drawn to her simple, repetitive, yet poetic melody.


Funny I feel this way about pigeons because I absolutely dislike them for their scatterbrained behavior, constantly fluttering about, waddling clumsily, and always busy pecking at scraps thrown their way.


Perhaps, in some ways, I feel this way because we are all like those pigeons.


The bird that cries at night was a pigeon.