Columnist Susan Snyder: A true flight of fancy

Tuesday, Sept. 5, 2000 | 9:32 a.m.

Susan Snyder's column appears Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at snyder@lasvegassun.com or 259-4082.

Maybe the three ring-necked doves missing from Lewis Family Park simply flew away.

Maybe they were stolen. Maybe we shouldn't think of the other possibilities. But according to an ornate advertisement in the Aug. 27 newspaper, the trio of birds were family pets that roosted in a tree at the park that sits on the extreme east side of town.

"Heartbroken family would like them returned," it says.

Leslie Mihalko, of the Clark County Parks and Recreation Department, says people lose dogs in parks all the time. But this was the first time she'd heard of lost birds.

She didn't actually hear about it. No one reported it to the parks office. She read it in the newspaper, too.

"It almost looked like a memorial," Mihalko said. "They obviously love those birds judging by the quality of the ad."

What's not so obvious is who owns the birds or whether they've flown home.

So I wandered around Lewis Family Park Thursday afternoon looking for a tree that seemed suitable for dove roosting. The park is one of those grassy swaths with a swing set, jungle gym and spindly trees that look as new as the houses that surround it.

I was there long enough to be suspected of stalking children, but found no sign of birds or bird people. Only thing left to do was comb the neighborhood looking for a bird-people house or a "lost birds" flier taped to a pole or mailbox.

"I've seen a lot of those whitish doves, but no ring-necked ones," said a man who was standing in the driveway of his home on Wild Strawberry Lane.

He studied the ad torn from the newspaper.

"I'll be darned," he added. "No, I don't know who it could be. Usually people put signs on the mailbox over there."

On Strawberry Cream Court a couple of blocks away, a fenced structure of some type poked above a backyard fence. Looked like an aviary. Ha!

But the woman who answered the door studied the ad and shook her head. She didn't have birds or know anyone who had birds, but she said the Neighborhood Watch block captain up the street might know.

"Nobody on this street has them. I know that for sure," the watch captain said, after reading the tattered clipping. "I know people who have birds but they're little ones, like finches."

There also is a family with one great big bird, she said. She remembered because it escaped last year and ended up at the neighbor's house across the street.

"They had it in the bathroom and were feeding it and everything," she giggled.

In this day and age, a person can only go door to door in a neighborhood for only so long before people think she's casing the joint.

Disheartened and disappointed, I left the pretty east-side community I didn't know existed until a week ago, and stopped for a cold soda.

The clerk inside the Mobil station at East Charleston Boulevard and Sloan Lane hadn't heard the saga of the missing doves either.

"Awwwww, that's sad," she said.

Yes, it is. But if it's any consolation to the unknown family, I didn't see a single cat.