I love to hear my mourning doves cooing. Their distinctive cooing sound brings warm memories of overnight visits to my grandmother’s 100-year-old home.

I would nestle into the feather bed and awake to the beautiful cooing of the mourning doves. They would perch upon a fence nearby the home, and their coos would softly float in the air to my open bedroom window. The fence seemed to be their favorite place as they sat together for hours, just cooing and watching the world go by.

My mourning doves have the same habit as my grandmother’s doves had, as they also are “fence sitters.” Every day they perch in a row on the fence, cooing and sunning themselves. Even when it is cold and windy, the doves will take their daily station on top of the fence. My squirrels love to run along the top of the fence, and many a time I have watched a squirrel stop, look at the line of doves, and contemplate if he should become a bowling ball and make a strike. After a few seconds of thought, the squirrels will brush that idea aside and run down to the ground, scamper several feet, and then go back up the fence to get to the top to continue their run. The doves sit quietly and continue being “fence sitters.”

When I was a youngster, I loved to climb anything. As a young toddler, I was an escape artist from the crib and play pen.

By the time I was 4, I could shimmy up a tree, climb over fences, pull myself up ropes, and climb clothes line poles. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t climb, especially fences.

My father built our fence and stretched all the wire himself, fastening it to the wooden posts and stringers. It was a grand fence for climbing. I could scurry over that fence in less than a minute. Father knew that I would climb the fence, so he came up with a rule that he thought would discourage me from attempting my next conquest. It didn’t. The rule was very simple. I could climb the fence as long as I didn’t bend the top of the metal fencing when going over it.

Normally, I would swing my leg up onto the top of the stringer, but that would mean my foot would hit the top of the wire and potentially bend it on my way over the fence. I studied my challenge and finally figured out how to go up and over the fence without bending the wire.

Dad shook his head when he saw me carefully straddle the wire without bending it. I was so confident in my ability until one day in my haste to get over the fence the top of the wire caught my shorts. I was stuck. I couldn’t get my shorts out of a bend in the top wire.

Sitting on the fence, I had to make a decision. Either I had to sit there until someone came along, or I would have to jump down and tear my shorts. My mother had warned me about tearing my clothes on the fence. After a few more attempts at trying to gain my freedom, I knew I had to make a decision — wait for an undetermined amount of time or endure my mother’s ever ready speech that began with the words, “I warned you.”

I chose mother’s speech and freedom from my “fence sitting.” With a quick prayer that the shorts would be repairable, I pulled hard and jumped down to the ground. I had a few scrapes, and the ripped section of the shorts remained in the wire, but I had made my decision and was finally free. Mother said her speech. I couldn’t climb the fence for a few days. Father shook his head again, but I was “off the fence” and going on with my life. I made my decision. No “fence sitting” for me. I had more things to climb.

We encounter many daily decisions in our lives. Some are easy to resolve, and some take a little extra time, research, and consultation with others to arrive at a decision. Many times, though, we over-think the issue and become “fence sitters,” just like my mourning doves.

One of my favorite pastimes is hunting out treasures at garage sales. On a few occasions, I spied something I liked but just couldn’t arrive at a decision. When I finally decided to buy it, someone else had just picked up the item and was on their way to pay for it. I sat “on the fence” too long.

Twenty years ago I found a wonderful miniature schnauzer puppy. He was adorable, but I was still grieving the passing of my 4-year-old miniature schnauzer due to severe uncontrollable epilepsy. I was “fence sitting.” Day after day I would go visit the little furry bundle of energy. This routine continued for three weeks until one day another couple came to visit him while I was there. I could tell they were seriously thinking of buying him. I got “off the fence.” I bought him and had 17 years of joy with my little boy.

Are you mulling over some decision? Some people will stay “on the fence” and just wait to see what develops. That’s the decision of indecision. Make this the day you decide to “get off the fence.” Life is too short to “fence sit”. Decisions left unmade can change the direction of your life.

I would have never enjoyed 17 years with my schnauzer boy if I hadn’t gotten “off the fence.” You may get a few scrapes, some bruises, and you might even tear a pair of shorts along the way, but you only have one life. Get “off the fence” and go live it. 

Kim Fortune is a freelance reporter and columnist for the Huron Daily Tribune. She can be reached by emailing hdt_news@hearstnp.com.