A pair of Mourning Doves are deciding whether or not they can make a home with us. They spent several hours yesterday afternoon trying to find an opening in the front screen so they could check out the porch. Seems Mourning Doves prefer building their nests under roofs rather than in trees. It's not our house so we can't start nailing up dove condos everywhere but, after reading up on them, we decided we'd see about setting out a nesting box on the unscreened side porch and leave the rest up to them. I did not know until today that the Mourning Dove is a very close relative to the Passenger Pigeon, a bird which, sadly, was hunted into extinction by stupid, greedy cruel Americans at the beginning of the 1900s. You are in luck. I do not have the will this morning to detail their dastardly methods but I will say that if karma means business about that eye for an eye thing, let it be an eye for every eye these fucktards closed.
Martha, the last Passenger Pigeon, died alone in a zoo on September 1, 1914.
Anyway, the Mourning Doves have a lovely song and I hope we can work something out so they stay.
3 comments:
One place we lived was visited regularly by mourning doves. I used to enjoy watching them because they would, more than any other bird, ignore the cats as they crept up on them until they got very, very close. They seemed stupid, at first, but probably just very, very confident that they could fly away quickly enough, and they didn't want to leave whatever it was they were eating until just the very last split-second. The cats never caught any, and eventually ignored them.
I think, over all, cats prefer the life of the mind.
The extinction thing is so sad. Humans are a cruel species.
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