Dove Line

Day 315: Although pigeons drive me nuts because they clean out my bird feeders in a matter of seconds, Mourning Doves (Zenaida macroura) don't inspire me to rush the window screaming profanity and waving my arms. In fact, I rather enjoy them. A few visit the seed trays, but for the most part, they're content to clean up what the other birds scatter on the ground. It's been twenty years or so since the first pair showed up in my yard. The following year brought a couple more, and then by the third year, I had a flock of eight. The population has grown somewhat since then, but even so, it has remained at a dozen or so, possibly limited by the availability of other natural forage. This morning's assembly reminded me of a Pixar short called "For the Birds." All it wants is for a clumsy owl to land in the middle of the chorus line.

Mourning Dove, Zenaida Macroura

Day 207: You could almost mistake their coo for the hoot of an owl, these Mourning Doves. Although as a general rule, I don't have much use for anything even remotely resembling a pigeon, Zenaida macroura is not obnoxious. They don't overwhelm the feeders. In fact, they clean up the ground after the smaller birds are through sorting for the choicest seeds. They perch politely on the fence rails and overhead wires, engaging in soft conversation and waiting their turn. Not so the blasted Band-tailed Pigeons which arrive shortly on the heels of the Evening Grosbeaks, their minute pigeon brains keying in on the grosbeaks' mapping system. I spend a lot of time rushing at the windows to chase the Band-taileds away, but the Mourning Doves are welcome. That said, an occasional undesirable look-alike shows up: the Eurasian Collared-dove. The Collared-dove is lighter in colour, and has a small patch of black on the back of the neck. The black "collar" is not always evident unless the bird has its neck extended.

Grumpy Doves

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Day 132: Although Mourning Doves are capable of entering a state of torpor similar to that exhibited by overwintering hummingbirds, their circulatory system is not as well-developed as that seen in many other non-migratory birds. Consequently, Mourning Doves are more likely to lose toes to frostbite. One hypothesis suggests that this susceptibility may be a by-product of the birds' expanding range. The species' physiology has not yet adapted to the colder northern climates. Mine are certainly not happy with this morning's snow. They have been sitting in groups on the fence and phone lines, heads pulled down between their shoulders and feathers fluffed out to trap body heat. Nighttime temperatures are forecast to drop into the low teens this week, making it rough on the pigeon-toed members of my yard flock.

Not The Brightest Crayon

Day 308: They're just not the brightest crayons in the box, if you know what I mean. This year, I have had a pair of Mourning Doves (Zenaida macroura) whose favourite resting spot is in the middle of my driveway. They often sit side-by-side, whispering sweet nothings to one another in a haunting, soft coo, but I do not see them feeding on insects in the gravel like the grosbeaks do, or engaging in any other activity outside of simply sitting there. They remain there for long periods of time, half an hour or more is a lengthy period for a bird to sit still. Sometimes one or the other of them will tuck its head under its wing for a nap, only rousing if my neighbour happens to drive through. They seem to be paired, flying off together toward a mutually agreed upon destination when they do take wing and returning together for another round of gravel-hatching. Try as I might, I just can't get inside their minds...not that there's much room in that pointy pigeon head.

Mourning Dove

Day 167: A friend recently asked me if I could possibly be as alert to the sounds of Nature as I think I am. I assured him that yes, I most definitely was, and even more keen to respond to the absence of natural sounds when such a rare event takes place because it startles me into immediate attention. Even through my double-pane windows, I hear the constant chorus of voices in my yard, the full melodic range from the throaty basses of the Ravens to the chipping sopranos of the Goldfinches and Chickadees (hummers don't count...they're off the chart). One of the most enjoyable tones to my ear comes from a member of the pigeon family, surprisingly: Zenaida macroura, the Mourning Dove. This robin-sized bird's mellow contralto coos don't inspire me to race at the window shouting, "Get outta here, you blankety-blank pigeons!" like the similar call of the Band-Tailed does. No, when I hear the Mourning Dove, I sit perfectly still so that the bird will not take flight. If I can get a glimpse of soft grey-brown feathers or take note of the black markings on the wing without disrupting my visitor, I count it as a bonus to the performance of one of Nature's most soothing melodies in the theater of my yard.

Not The Brightest Crayon

Day 83: They're not the brightest crayons in the box, the Columbidae. The family includes both doves and pigeons, and whether wild or tame, there is an absence of intelligence which makes me wonder how they have survived and even swollen to such numbers as to be considered pests in urban areas. Here, my most frequent "pigeons" are Band-tailed and Mourning Doves (Zenaida macroura) shown above), but the occasional Eurasian Collared Dove shows up, to my great dismay. They are considered invasive, as if the Band-Taileds (protected) weren't pests enough. Anyone standing outside my living room might see me rushing headlong at the windows, arms flailing and a ferocious scowl on my face at the height of Band-Tailed residency, or yanking open the kitchen door to yell, "Getouttahere, you g**-d***ed pigeons!" I never thought I could dislike a bird, but Band-Taileds in particular have incurred my enduring wrath for being gluttonous and messy. On the other hand, I rather enjoy the soft cooing of the Mourning Doves, and their soft colours are attractive to the eye even if their tiny heads are filled with metaphorical fluff. Also in their favour is the fact that they only come in pairs or trios, not dozens, and they seldom linger for more than a few days.

Coo-coo Birds

Day 64: The Coo-coo Birds are seldom brave enough to come into the yard proper, preferring to hang out on the power lines or scrabble in the driveway rocks for bugs. Today, however, a pair of them were cleaning up the spilled seed, "pair" in the sense of "mates" as opposed to "two birds." Mourning Doves are not uncommon here, but unlike their pigeon cousins, they aren't obnoxious. That said, as members of the clan, they're not exactly the sharpest crayons in the box either, although if they disappeared, I would miss their soft voices. Oddly, their mewing is very similar to the sweet-nothings I've heard exchanged sotto voce between courting ravens, but then, ravens and crows are capable of producing a much wider range of vocalizations. It's no wonder doves are a symbol of peace. They can only speak words of love.