My Birth.

My existence began not unlike yours. I started out fragile, grew rapidly in the womb, and exited my mother's life tunnel into the light. The main difference is that I was not exposed to the air at that point...

In my species we grow in the womb to about 3/4 the size you do, then we are "sac-born". We emerge covered in a thick membrane attached to a biological apparatus that works like a billows, reacting chemically with the air and pumping up the membrane away from our infant frames. A mixture of fluid and gases cushions us and gives us more room to develop for 2 months more. The outer surface hardens slightly for protection, becoming very much like an eggshell. Then, when the time is juuuuust right, we break free of our brittle prison and stretch our limbs for the first time.

Tradition in our culture says you never speak the baby's name aloud before they are sac-born. It's bad luck. You may choose a name, pointing to names that are written down. Hopefully your spouse thinks you are pointing to the same name they are; there are reports of some confusion when the name is finally spoken on sac-day and the spouse disagrees with the choice.

The tiny nubs on the infant's back and calves that develop before being sac-born are now free to advance in their growth within the membrane. The nubs on the legs become rudders for steering. The ones on the back stretch forth, acquire joints, and finally little slats, like a fan made from individual strips. These slats have a strong membrane between them like the webbing between fingers. These special adaptations are what set us apart from most beings our size on this planet. They allow us to fly.

My parents agreed on a name for me long before I was conceived. They had heard a sound that is all at once beautiful and melancholy, a sound found in the natural world outside the small island where we worked out our living. Most of the people in our society are named after bird calls; that is, you have to make the bird's call to speak my name. The name chosen for me was the call of the mourning dove.

How ironic...how could they have known how appropriate that name would be for me?