The "Not So Rare Dove"

   Earlier, I heard the familiar call of a white-winged dove.  Knowing these are rather rare around this area, I slipped out the front door in hopes of finding my bird.  Over the past few years, I have managed to get several photographs of the elusive birds which excited me.  Yep, I am a sucker for the rare visitors to the Bayou and will go to no ends to photograph them.  Let any unusual critter come and I am on a mission!

  From the calls, it was apparent that the bird was down the hill somewhere by the wild persimmon trees.  I eased onward trying to not call attention to myself by being abrupt.  Just meander and let the birds know there was nothing to fear.  Once I neared the marsh edge, I figured either I had missed the birds or they had flown.  Well, I would try again tomorrow.

  As I turned to head back inside, a whirring of wings told me that a dove had just taken flight!  Was this my white-winged dove?  Turning back, I found a mourning dove not the elusive bird.  This dove is one of many that call the place home and, also, one of many that does not have fear of humans.  How beautiful the bird looked against the overcast sky!  The dove and its surroundings were exactly the same color.  Wow!  A study in tan was set before me!  I stood in awe of one of our regular resident birds.  There was no need to be a rarity to be beautiful.  I was just as happy photographing this sweet friend.

The "Bird Whisperer"!

   It might be my imagination but it appears that the doves are getting tame.  I admit that I feed the birds to keep them around the place since I love to watch them but, my goodness, they are now getting underfoot!  Son was the first to notice when he almost stepped on a dove.  The bird just would not move out of the path!  Son sidestepped around the dove and went on about his business.  We laughed about the incident.  Son has always been one that can easily befriend wild animals so nothing more was thought about it.  Then...today.

  This morning, I was in the yard raking the oak leaves that are raining down upon us from the many live oak trees.  Earlier, birdseed had been put under the garden bench (for the songbirds' protection from the hawk) and dozens of assorted birds were filling their bellies.  Whenever I would get too near their feeding spot, all the birds would fly to the limbs of nearby trees to wait until all was clear again.  Well, all but the doves.  They stayed put.  Sweet!  I am the bird whisperer!

  

  My chores moved me to the veggie plot to do a bit of weeding.  It was there in the midst of the baby carrots that a juvenile dove decided to become even more friendly.  The bird walked (yes, walked) right up to me.  With an outstretched hand, friendship was offered...and accepted.  The dove hopped onto my hand!  What?  There I sat in the midst of the carrots with a dove on my hand!  I dared not move as to not frighten the bird.  We sat.  I marveled.  

  After a few moments, the dove settled down into the soft dirt and watched me pull weeds.  Wow.  Just wow.  I felt so honored.  Hopefully tomorrow, my bird friend will be out again but, also hopefully, the hawk will not.  Take care, Little Friend!

The Loving Couple

  For any of you going through life's trials, sometimes it pays to take a look outside.  As Pop used to say, "People could learn a lot from nature if they would only take the time to really study what is going on around them."  Pop was a smart man.  Nature does give life lessons for free on a daily basis.  All that is required is that you show up for class and pay attention.  You won't be tested, you won't be graded and you will not get a "degree" but I guarantee that you will learn a lot.  Personally, I find that a solution of how to handle most "problems" can be handed to me simply by taking a stroll around the hillside.  That "Bayou Magic" always has an answer.

  This morning's sunrise was completely blocked by fog once again.  While most folks fuss about the weather, I find fog to be to my liking.  Of course, if I had to drive in it, my attitude would surely change to where I do NOT like it.  But, I don't so I do...nuff said.  The morning meanderings took me through woods to the swamp.  Even though, I could hear my bird friends, nary a one could be seen through the drippiness of the fog.  It took me to come back between the grape arbor and the greenhouse before any critters consented to be seen.  A pair of mourning doves sat in the black gum tree.  Both were huddled against the pea-soup thick fog.  The male watched my every move while she preened.  He was guarding his ladylove as she flicked droplets of water from her feathers. Their closeness warmed the heart and blocked out the chill that was starting to envelop me.  This is how each loving couple should be.  The male bird is protective of his ladylove and she is steadfast in her devotion to him.  

  Most mourning doves mate for life.  They both make the (weak and wobbly) nest, both brood the eggs and both feed the hatchlings.  The chicks are called squabs and are fed "pigeon's milk" or "crop milk".  Both parents are capable of producing this as it is created in the crop from the digested food of the parents. Even though it is called "milk", it more resembles yellowish cottage cheese. Mourning doves are the epitome of how a family should be.  They start as a loving couple, raise their broods and remain a loving couple!  Folks, if there is any question, this is how it should be!

Why Don't You Fly?

  There is something about mourning doves that never ceases to cause pondering with me.  How are these birds so calm, cool and collected?  I can usually befriend a lot of the critters on the Bayou after a few weeks of patiently coaxing but songbirds seem to be the hardest to tame.  Shorebirds, on the other hand, are always hungry and looking for handouts.  The smaller birds never want to take the time to visit but those doves will sit for hours with you if they take the inclination to do so.  The whole time they are near, the birds are placidly staring...never moving more than a few inches and never excited.  This often makes me ponder if the birds are just that accustomed to people or if they are possibly just that dimwitted that they do not understand fear.  Sitting next to any unknown critter can be a bit unnerving but not for the doves.  They just take it all in stride.

  Mark and I came up the hill from fishing and spied a dove in the birdbath.  Since he has been trying out my camera lately, the dove was a perfect chance to get some practice.  Doves sit still.  They do not hop, wiggle or bob.  They are not skittish and are hard to scare.  So, he started taking pictures.  The dove sat through the entire photo shoot with nary an urge to take flight.  

  After Mark tired of clicking the camera, he handed it back to me.  The dove sat.  Ok, so now I needed a few photographs but instead of staying on the board path, I eased my way nearer the bird.  Neither Mark nor I were particularly quiet as we were talking and he was steadily slapping deer flies.  Soon I found myself within a few feet of the bird and  it still did not budge.  I thanked the bird for its time and patience and turned to go back up the hill.  At the doorway, I looked back to see the mourning dove STILL IN THE SAME PLACE!  What's up with that??  Goodness, I love these birds!

Not The Most Pleasant

  Not every hike about the hillside is pleasant.  Sometimes, a find along the way can be saddening.  This morning, a pile of feathers meant that another songbird met its untimely death in the clutches of the Cooper's Hawk.  These hawks are amazingly agile hunters and can swoop in and out of tree branches without ever making contact with any.  This gives the hawk and almost unfair advantage over other birds.  A Cooper's Hawk rarely ever misses its target.  Besides using the speed and agility, the bird also relies upon stealth in its quest for a meal.   Just last year, I watched as a young hawk fly into the hickory tree just above the feeders.  Before dawn, it would take its station in the tree to await the songbirds that would come for breakfast.  Then, at daybreak, it would choose its prey and swoop down for an easy meal.

  I used to enjoy watching the birds come to the feeders but since the hawks have moved into the area, that is not an option.  It is not up to me to fatten the doves for a hawk's meal.  Now, the feeders sit empty and my songbirds have moved to other areas.  Perhaps, if the food source is removed, the hawks will find another breeding ground, as well.   My yard is not their diner!

  Finding the feathers this morning made me sad for the songbird but, in a weird (almost morbid) way, glad for the hawk.  If the hawk is able to catch prey, then it is healthy. I do enjoy watching the hawks but wish they would eat the voles that plague the garden instead of the songbirds that visit the feeders. 

The Tale of Two Tails

  Late this afternoon, I took a hike down to the pier and then around the shoreline to where the Bayou meets the creek.  Not much was happening except for the fact that I was being steadily attacked by deer flies.  Those things are brutal!  The more I swatted, the more they came. I rounded the clump of gallberry bushes only to come face to face with a mourning dove.  The bird was on a limb just about eye level with me. Evidently startled, the bird flew off the limb to the ground about ten feet from me.  There, she started the familiar "I'm hurt!" routine that was a sure sign that her nest was nearby.  While she flip-flopped around the hillside, I looked for her nest.  With all of her coaxing, I knew that her little ones were not hatchlings.  She would have never left the nest if they were tiny. They had to be juveniles that were about ready to leave the nest. Her babies had grown to the point where they filled the nest which accounted for her being on the nearby limb.  

  Sure enough, after a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit brush and I spied the two little birds.  Wow!  They were nigh on as big as Mama!  I could clearly make out two tails sticking up out of the nest.  I eased back as to not frighten the little squirts but then Mama Dove made a beeline flight back into the bush.  Her actions startled the little ones and both tumbled out of the nest and onto the ground.  Oh, my...now what?  Putting the little ones back into the nest can be safely done for the birds but I would have been scratched to pieces by a smilax vine that twined in among the limbs.  I watched the little ones and soon realized that these two should be old enough to fly.

  Sure enough, Mama Dove flew to the mimosa tree and both little ones took off in perfect form.  Their flight to the mimosa tree may not have been their first attempt by the looks of it!  Mama Dove seemed proud of her little ones and had gotten over her fear of me. The trio did not budge from the mimosa tree even though I was just a few feet from their perch. All of her theatrics were in vain.  There is no way I would have ever harmed her little ones!

  A bit later, I saw the trio fly back into the gallberry bushes and the two settled back into the poorly formed nest.  There they will spend the night protected by the smilax thorns and sheltered by the thick canopy of gallberry leaves. Mama took her perch on the limb several feet from her nest....just in case another monster entered the scene.  If so, she would, once again, start her "break dancing" routine.  Geez!  What mamas do for their little ones!

Trying His Wings

  The lack of winter here on the Bayou was a tad ridiculous but I had no idea just how crazy it was until today.  There are going to be some mighty strange effects of a year of warmth.  Besides the obvious plant related things, such as early blooming and multiple crops, the critters are experiencing a bit of mayhem as well.  This chaotic situation became clear as a bell to me early this afternoon during my hike.  

  While down near the creek, a sudden rustling in the underbrush gave me a start.  Not being able to see just what was causing the ruckus made me wary but curious.  Unwilling to agitate whatever critter was astir, I sank to my knees as to be less intimidating.  I stared at the underbrush not seeing what was causing the commotion.  Something was not too happy with my presence.  I knew that my busy visitor was not threatening since two blue jays were nest-building about thirty feet due north of the underbrush.  Those "alarms" would be alerting everything within two miles of any predator in the area.  They were quiet.  

  After a bit, I finally saw a bit of movement in the thicket.  There, among the brambles, a fledgling Mourning Dove was trying its wings.  The young bird was as curious of me as I was of it.  We made eye contact several times without it attempting to escape.  Both parent doves were within ten feet of the little one.  While they were trying to coax it to be still, the youngster had different ideas.  It wanted to fly and be free!  After a few moments, I heard the stray cat meowing nearby and knowing that this predator would have loved to dine upon the young bird, I decided to move toward the cat and away from the bird.  The cat, being rather shy, scampered up towards the house leaving the little bird in relative safety.  

  Seeing the already fledged bird made me realize just how out of whack the weather has been.  The doves had to nest in mid February to already have a youngster able to take flight.  Goodness!  What is in store for us this summer??

Don't Get Your Little Red Feet Muddy!

  The young Mourning Dove that has decided that I am a friend rather than foe, has me a bit bewildered.  While the bird can be found near the feeders most of the time, occasionally it seeks out some confusing shelters.  Although it is not unusual to find birds flitting about the marsh at any given time, finding a dove nestled down beneath an uprooted Groundsel Bush makes me scratch my head. With all of the dangers lurking in the marsh and especially up under the twisted roots and mud, it seems to me that this little dove is just asking for trouble.  What was equally strange was the fact that I spent a good ten minutes trying to talk some sense into the bird's head.  It did not work.

  This morning, I found the bird in the same spot.  The tide had come in and was lapping dangerously close to the bird's little red feet.  Still, the dove had no inclination of leaving its resting spot.  Well, now, Dovey....you really should rethink this situation!  If the tide comes in much more, you will be forced to become a duck!  The bird stayed.  It sat there blinking at me with its pretty, dark eyes.

  I wandered up the hillside deep in thought as to why the little dove has decided to become a marsh bird.  Normally, one thinks of herons, egrets and rails as marsh birds.  Red-winged Blackbirds and even Marsh Wrens can call the place home but I have never seen a Mourning Dove have the desire to live in the mud.  Hmmm?  I pondered if the bird was ill.  I kept pondering as I filled the feeders.  Surely the little one would come to eat! I turned and, to my surprise, almost stepped on my little friend.  Well, goodness!  I am glad to see you back up here where you belong!

Never Too Many Friends!

  It has been said many times that I have more critter friends than people friends.  Also said many times, I am good with this.  Critters seem to be far better along those lines than most people.  That said, I figure you never can  have too many friends so making a new one is always a happy time.  Today's new friend was a young Mourning Dove.
  
  Mark and I had taken our late afternoon stroll around the property and wound up on the pier (as usual).  Earlier, I had caught a nice trout which made me catch the "fishing fever".  With good intentions that never came to fruition, we abandoned the idea and headed back up the board path that leads from the pier to the Little Bayou House.  Along this path, a number of bird feeders dot the way.  Nary a bird could be found until the last feeder.  A solitary dove was scavenging for an evening snack. That sure looked like a small dove.  As we strolled up the path, the little bird never moved.  It just kept pecking at the last bit of seeds left by the other birds.  

  Well, I could not leave well enough alone.  Down on the ground, I plopped!  This little dove looked like it needed a friend so I figured it might as well be me.  While I sat there on the soft grass, the dove eased nearer and nearer to me until I could have reached out and touched it. Since this was a recent nestling, it probably had not developed a fear of humans yet.  Maybe it never would.  Doves are relatively relaxed when it comes to interacting with people.  They will nest as close to the front door as possible and can be coaxed to eat from your hand.  This little one was a prime candidate as a friend. 

  My only fear with the bird being so docile is that the Cooper's Hawk will swoop down to make a meal out of my new friend.  At daybreak, the hawk can be found in the hickory tree as it scopes out a possible target. Lately, a bird has been taken each morning.  It bothered me, at first, but then I came to realize that the hawk had a nest of little ones to feed and it was only doing what comes natural.  I stopped filling the feeders in hopes that the hawk would hunt elsewhere.  It worked for a while but now the predator is on the prowl again.  Be safe, new friend, be safe.

Heartbroken

  The songbirds here on the Bayou have been having a most terrible time this spring.  What with a Screech Owl and two Rat Snakes raiding the nests of the little ones, Crows and squirrels snatching eggs as soon as they are laid and now the Cooper's Hawk murdering the adult birds, things are not looking good.  This evening just before dark, I heard a familiar sort of "clucking" noise.  Hmmm?  Where had I heard that before?  Then it dawned on me.  The Cooper's Hawk was in the yard again.  Oh, geez!  I have taken down the bird feeders for this very reason. This hawk is great at staking out a place near the feeders and then attacking when the songbirds come to feed.  But the feeders are down...and have been for some time now.  Why is the hawk still here?  I figure that it has a nest nearby and needs food for its little ones and one of my fat Mourning Doves fit the bill readily.

  I headed outside to see if I could prevent at least one murder of the slow-moving doves.  Perhaps my presence would make the hawk move to other parts.  It did not happen as planned.  Just as I stepped out the gate, I heard the soft twittering of a dove's wings as it rose from the far end of the rose garden.  Before I could even take two steps, a flash of wings and the dove was in the clutches of the hawk.  I wish I had not seen that.

  Even though I was too late, I still meandered over to where the cruel deed had been done.  A single feather floated softly down from above. My poor dove.  It seems as if the predators are winning this year and there is nothing that I can do to change that fact.  I guess I should be happy that the little ones of the predators are well fed.........I guess.  I do like the hawks.  I just do not like them eating my songbirds!

Hold Off...It is not Spring!

  Even though the temperature was a brisk thirty degrees this morning, I decided it was a good idea to head outside and do a bit of yard work. The brightness of the sunshine fooled my feeble brain into thinking it was springtime.  I knew different once the screen door slammed behind me.  Geez, it was cold!  The chill in the air did not deter me from my set plan.  The greenhouse was in need of a bit of straightening so I figured that was a good place to start.  At least there, it is warm!  The plants are doing well but somehow the place was a mess!  We had used the greenhouse as part of the clue hunt this past October.  In the process of taking down decorations, I missed a few so my greenhouse still resembled a bayou shack!  Oh well, I figured it does not really matter.  It is on a bayou after all! With that I started my "spring-cleaning"!  Wait...the weather says it is NOT spring, yet!

  It was while I was tinkering around in the greenhouse that I heard a familiar sound.  The fluttering of tiny wings made me look up to come eye to eye with the small Carolina Wren that nests in the place.  Last year, she chose the old watering can as a good, solid home in which to raise her brood.  Her aim was to reuse the old nesting spot, I suppose, so my intrusion was not welcome.  I reassured her that I meant no harm to her so we came to an agreement that she could have the back corner. I would piddle around in the plants near the front door.  Then....another familiar sound.  Oh, geez!  It is NOT spring, yet!

  A pair of Mourning Doves were doing their usual courtship in the grape arbor just outside the back door of the greenhouse.  One bird was on the arbor and the other was in the tall oak tree next to it.  Their amorous cooing could be heard loud and clear through the many windows around me.  Birds...it is NOT spring!

  The Mourning Doves will start making nests early in the year and continue through spring.  (They are not the best homebuilders as their nests often fall apart well before the baby birds fledge.)  Finally, the female will chose her nest and lay a pair of eggs.  After the eggs hatch, both the mother and father bird will feed them.  Both birds form "pigeon milk" in their crops.  This starts to be produced two days before the baby birds hatch.  It is regurgitated to feed the little ones until they can fend for themselves.  Pigeon Milk looks a lot like cottage cheese and is high in protein and fat.  It helps the little ones grow fast without the parent birds having to search for food constantly.   The only other birds besides doves and pigeons that have this ability are Flamingos and Emperor Penguins.  Still, it might be wise for the birds to hold off just a little bit.  We will still have a bit more cold weather and those baby birds might not like it!  After all....it is NOT spring....yet!

The Timeshare

  A Timeshare is a housing unit that is shared by tenants equally during the year.  Most of the time it is a vacation home that is "owned" by many tenants that are each allotted a certain couple of weeks per year to use the home.  During the rest of the year, the home (condo, apartment, whatever) is occupied by the different tenants.  This works well for folks who vacation occasionally and like to have their "own" place to go instead of the hassle of hotel rooms.  The concept it is a brilliant idea!

  I am thinking that the birds on the Bayou have come up with a similar plan.  The rose arbor has become a "housing project" for birds.  First, doves made a nest and were getting quite comfy when a pair of mockingbirds confiscated the nest and added onto it.  This did indeed improve the place and made for a much sturdier nest.  The mockingbirds raised their brood of four hatchlings despite the few harrowing incidents of storms, snakes and marauding hawks or crows. The little ones have been out on their own now for a good three weeks.  

  I was out plucking worms from the tomato plants when I heard a familiar call.  A mourning dove was just above my head on the arbor. After we said our "hellos" and exchanged niceties, he flew to the fig tree.  I thought this was rather suspicious so I checked the arbor.  Sure enough, in the same nest that the doves before had built and the mockingbirds improved, Mama Dove was setting on her eggs.  Ahhh, a new family of little ones would soon be hatched.  

  While I was standing there admiring the sweet face of Mama Dove, a chickadee started fussing at me.  That one was checking the little yellow birdhouse just inches from the dove abode.  It does appear that the arbor with its protective rose thorns is the condo of choice for the nesting birds. Wise choice as I am in the garden most of the day and will shoo any predators away from the nests.  I guess this Timeshare has a great security system as well as convenience.

The Peaceful Morn

Despite the chill in the air, Mark and I took Ms. Ez out for her morning run.  As soon as we were out the gate, Mark stopped me and called my attention to a bit of beauty near the pier.  The below freezing temperature had not stopped the egrets from hunting breakfast.  In fact, it most likely helped them by practically handing them minnows.  The north wind had blown the tide far out from the marsh and had exposed the mudflats once again.  In those mudflats, there are small tide pools of trapped water and in those tide pools there are trapped minnows.  Not being able to seek shelter in the marshes, the minnows were made sluggish by the icy waters.  They could hardly swim which made them easy targets for the egrets.

Seeing the egrets was not that unusual as, on any given day, I can usually spy ten or so around the Bayou.  What excited me was the fact that these were two different types of egrets that seemed to be working together to snag their breakfast.  A Great Egret and a Snowy Egret both fished side by side in the frigid water.  As I was snapping picture after picture, I noticed something else creeping into view!  Now I had three different birds working the same tiny pool!  A rail had ventured out of the marsh and fished right alongside of the larger birds.  Wow!  How neat that the three could coexist without squabbles!  (Makes you wonder just why we, as humans, cannot do the same.)

I was just about to pull back the camera when I saw yet another unusual pair.  Near the edge of the pier, a dove sat fluffed out against the cold wind.  Inches away, another rail searched the mud for any movement.  These, too, were on friendly terms.  I had to photograph those as well. All in all, I must say that it was a very happy morning for me!  I was thrilled with the opportunity to not only view the peacefulness that these birds showed to one another but to be able to capture on film the amicability of the group.

Two Houses!

Ok, so a dove finally smartened up and built a decent nest!  Almost every Mourning Dove that has ever nested around the Little Bayou House has built the most slipshod nest that I have ever seen.  A few twigs haphazardly tossed on a limb or arbor had to suffice.  These nests were expected to weather the sometimes violent storms that swing across the Bay. More oft than not after such storms, I would find either the white eggs or baby birds tossed to the ground by the winds.  The parent birds would be in a quandary as they tried to figure out why in the world their home fell to the elements.  Those few twigs could never be expected to withstand raging winds and pelting rains.  I was always reminded of the old tale of the "Three Little Pigs".  That pig who built his house of straw was not the brightest crayon in the box and neither is the Mourning Dove when it comes to home building.

Ramshackle nest built by the male Mourning Dove...

Compact fortress built by the female dove!

Now, I find a Mourning Dove that has got her act together!  About a week ago, I noticed two nests being built on the East Arbor in the Rose Garden.  First off, I commended the soon-to-be parents.  They chose a perfect area to build.  The Cherokee Rose that is on this arbor has grown with wild abandon.  The canes are thick and well-spiked with thorns!  This should keep many predators at bay!  I watched as the parent birds built the two nests. Usually, just the female constructs the nest while the male brings her the building material.  Why the male decided to build a nest is beyond me.  Was he a bit jealous of his wife's ability? Maybe she spent too much time weaving the twigs and he got bored!  Out of the two nests, his was the ramshackle nest that I had seen other doves construct.  Hers was more meticulous.  Each twig was placed in an exact spot..each vine woven with care.  The nest was a beautiful example of what should be considered a bird abode.  I am happy to say that she chose the well-constructed nest over the one that her husband presented.  Good job, Mrs. Dove!

For the past four days, Mrs. Dove has been sitting on her cozy nest.  For the past three days we have had violent storms cross the Bay and pummel the hillside.  The nest held snugly and Mama Bird survived as did her eggs.  Within a few weeks, little doves will be residing in this nest and I feel a lot more confident that they will be safe.  Of course, predators still may find their way up to the nest but at least Mama Dove used a bit of sense with her choice of location and with the care of home building.  Lets just hope Daddy Dove is a better father than he is nest builder!

Nice to see old friends

I am always pleasantly surprised by visits to the Bayou by old friends.  More oft than not, these old friends are some critters rather than humans.  When one of these old pals drops in to visit, I try my best to set a lovely buffet for them.  A few hand tossed scraps, filled bird feeders and lots of fresh water lures them every time!  During the heat of the day, I have a tendency to find my chair beneath the shade trees.  It is from this cool retreat that I can watch who comes to dine at the feeders.  Occasionally, an old friend, who has been absent for a while, will drop by to grab a bite.

Today, I heard a familiar call from a White-winged Dove.  It was high in a pine tree near the birdbath.  I have not seen the bird for quite some time now and was excited that it had returned to the Bayou.  Then..I heard another.  This one was behind me on the Rose Arbor.  Two White-winged Doves on the hill was something to stir the blood!  Perhaps, these two would find the area to their liking and decide to nest here.  Then..another!  Far in the distance, I could hear a third bird with the same call.  I was excited to say the least!

It is easy to see the difference between the White-winged Dove (foreground) and the Mourning Dove (background).

After I watched for some time, one White-winged Dove flew to the ground beneath the sunflower seed feeders.  The bird mingled with a few Mourning Doves.  This was great as it gave me the opportunity to compare the two types of birds.  Although similar, they are vastly different.  Both do have similar coloring but whereas the Mourning Dove has black spots on its back, the White-winged has only a few black stripes on its tail.  It does have a broad, white stripe down its wing something that the Mourning Dove does not.  Still the most striking feature of the White-winged Dove is the blue eye patch surrounding its bright orange eye!

I whiled away the afternoon watching for the White-winged Dove.  After returning to the Little Bayou House, I pondered about a previous post I did on this bird.  Looking back, I was surprised to see that the dove's last appearance was nearly two years ago to the date!  My post was on June 17, 2011!  Had I just missed the visit last summer?  Or, had these birds not come.  I realize that this is most likely not the same bird from several years ago but still, the visit made me smile.  Welcome..Sweet Birds..welcome.

Some Come..Some Go..

I have been keeping tabs on all of the birds' nests in the area..especially those close at hand.  The Mourning Dove on top of the grape arbor has two little ones that are nigh on leaving the nest.  These were a second laying for this dove as she lost the first two to crows.  It is a sad thing to know predators get little ones but then life must go on after such a tragedy.  She reconstructed her nest and laid two more eggs.  These fared better since the grape leaves grew thick and covered the nest nicely.  Tragedy struck harshly to the Mourning Dove that has nested twice already on top of the rose/jasmine arbor.  Once her little ones flew happily away to be on their own, she had thoughts of nesting for a third time this year.  I watched as she and the male dove added a few more twigs to the existing nest and then one morning..the first egg!  This was to be an eventful year for the doves!  Three nestings in one summer...and perhaps even more!  I began to think all was well in the avian world (and it probably still is).

About a week ago, I rose early to catch the sunrise.  Imagine my dismal surprise when I came upon a large pile of grey feathers right along side of the board path that leads to the pier.  Uh oh...an owl or hawk must have gotten one of the fledgling doves!  Poor baby!  I supposed that Mama and Daddy bird had not taught the little ones to watch for dangers from above.  I went on to the pier with a little sadness in my heart all the while knowing that these things happen in the wild.  Later, I watched the nest.  Had I missed Mama Dove coming in to lay her next egg?  I peeked in the nest..one egg..hmmm?  The next day and every day since, Mama Dove has been absent.  The reality hit me today as I watched the bird feeders.  Two young doves were present.  Obviously, the feathers that I had seen were Mama Dove.  She would never hatch the lone egg that still sits in a cold nest.  Poor Mama Dove.  My sadness grew and the nest sat empty except for an egg that will never hatch.

Then as I watched the feeders, I realized that life does indeed go on even after tragedies.  Mama Red Bellied Woodpecker came in with a single fledgling!  She was teaching the tyke how to extract sunflower seeds from the wire cage feeders.  At first, the youngster sat on the driftwood post and shrieked at Mama.  "I am hungry!  Feed me!"  Mama obliged a couple of times and then pretended not to hear the demands.  "Feed me!  Feed me!"  Mama Woodpecker continued to get seeds but she was taking them to the post to crack them only to eat them herself!  The youngster's shrieks got louder and louder but still Mama Woodpecker ignored the ruckus.  Finally, the young woodpecker decided to try its best to get a seed! Success!  Try as it might, it could not crack the seed to get the soft inner core.  Mama showed the little one how to use a knothole in the post for cracking.  It will take some doing for the little woodpecker to learn exactly how to maneuver the seed in place and how to peck at it just so to crack the hard outer layer.  Mama will stay right there and teach the little one all the tricks of the trade, though.  She is a good mama.  And life goes on...

The "Not so Empty Nest" Syndrome

Mama Dove is on her second nesting of this season.  The pair of doves chose to reuse the same nest as earlier this spring.  It is located on the jasmine/rose arbor above the front gate.  If I so desired, I could reach up an touch the nest without a problem.  It is that close to the most used gate on the hillside.  Perhaps she feels protected there or perhaps this pair of doves are just a tad lazy in their nest-building chores.  This is the same dove that had a near disaster during her first nesting period when a large limb from a nearby Black Gum tree boinked her on the noggin.  Her babies were knocked to the ground during a freak storm that was nigh on Tropical Storm strength.  Mama Dove was not concerned that Ms. Ez and I rescued the little ones and took them inside while she recovered.  Once they were replaced in the nest, Mr. and Mrs. Dove raised them to maturity.  That is when she renested atop the arbor once again.  I was really surprised to see that this time, Mama Dove laid three eggs.  This is almost unheard of in the avian world!  Two eggs are normally the limit with each nesting.  It behooved me to watch  this nest closely!  I pondered if all three eggs would hatch and would Mama Dove be able to raise an extra babe to maturity.

My concerns about the number of eggs in the nest was brought to a screeching halt when one morning a couple of weeks ago, I found an intact dove's egg on the ground.  I am still a bit unsure if the egg accidentally fell from the poorly constructed nest or if the parent birds tossed it.  Either way, the concern about Papa and Mama Dove being able to produce enough "pigeon milk" for the babes was no more.  (Doves are among a particular group of birds that exclusively feed their young pigeon milk or crop milk.  This is a secretion that is more or less regurgitated food.  It is high in protein and fat so the little ones grow fast.)  Mama Dove hatched the remaining two eggs and the adult pair, once again, busied themselves feeding the fast-growing chicks.  Within a matter of two weeks, the squabs are now almost as large as the parent birds!  This evening when I checked on my friends, I noticed Mama Dove was sitting beside the nest.  The two teenagers were filling the small twig mat to capacity!   These two should be flying in a few days but in the meantime, it is a tight fit for three birds in one nest!

Now, I am a tad curious to see if this pair of Mourning Doves will nest for a third time.  If they do, will they decide to use the same nest again?  The pair has been nesting in the same spot now for three years and could very well surprise me with yet another pair of youngsters this summer.  The security of being close to the house or having a ready babysitter/protector of the squabs might be the enticement to nest in the sames spot.  Either way, I am glad that I get to document their family time!

Near Catastrophe!

The winds howled with such intensity today that if I had not known better, I would have thought a hurricane was bearing down on the Coast!  After a night of drizzly rain, around noon the winds began to blow a gale!  Limbs were being blown from the treetops and yard items were being upended.  This was some storm!  It was a bit unnerving to say the least!  Any time a storm of this strength hits without warning it makes me wonder if there is a tornado or waterspout in the vicinity.  There very well could have been today.

The wild weather knocked this limb down on top of  Mama Dove and her nest!

The top of a dying Black Gum Tree slammed on top of the south rose arbor.  This is the same arbor where Mama Dove sat on her nest.  Was she ok?  Had she taken a direct blow from this huge chunk of wood?  How were her little ones? Staring out the window, I tried to focus through the wild weather to check on her.  A few seconds later, I saw her wobbling about on the ground.  She was walking or stumbling in circles.  Poor Mama evidently had been hit!  Regardless of the fierce winds and torrential rains that were pummeling the Little Bayou House, I raced out see if I could help her!  Not realizing that I was her friend she tried to fly to the fence top and was careened off into the wind!  Poor Mama!!  Now my attention turned to the nest and little ones.  Grabbing the stepladder, I hurried to check on the babies.  The nest was empty!  Where were the babies?   Just by a matter of inches, a miracle had occurred!  The legs of the stepladder had been plunked down just inches away from the tiny birds.  Oh my!  Scooping up the two of them from the ground, I hurried inside.  With Mama Dove nowhere in sight, I had to try something!  The tiny little bodies were cold and motionless.  I began to wonder if I was too late.  I cradled them in my hands but then realized that I was as cold as the babies.  Hurrying to the kitchen, I did what I could to warm the babies.  Soon they were nestled in a warmed dishtowel.  I watched them closely.  After about ten minutes, I noticed one little head start to bobble a bit.  Then the other started to move!  The little ones were still alive!  Oh, Mama Dove...please be ok..please return!

The two nestling doves that were knocked out of the nest by the wind.  They were cold and wet!

Nigh on an hour later, the winds started to ease a bit.  I peered out that window again hoping against hope that I would see Mama Dove.  I did not.  My heart sank a bit..poor little ones.  Then..a flutter!  Looking battered and tired, Mama Dove was trying to find her babies!  Once again, I scooped up those little rascals!  Out the door and up the ladder I went!  Mama Dove eyed me curiously as I reached toward her empty nest.  She was just inches away from my hands but must have either been too exhausted to care or she knew I was there to help.  Gently..ever so gently..the two little doves were placed back into that nest.  No sooner had I set them down than she cooed and eased onto the nest. She shuffled them up under her and soon was nestled down atop her babies.  The wind still whipped around us and the rains still drenched us but we looked at each other. From one mother to another..we were satisfied.  The babies were safe..at least for the moment.

I am happy to report that Mama Dove is still sitting on the nest late this evening.  This means her little ones are still surviving their terrible blow from the weather..at least for now.

I hope the fall from the nest and the cold, wet rains did not do too much damage.  I do take some consolation in knowing that at least I tried.  The two tiny tots would have surely perished if I had not intervened.  Mama Dove..I am glad you are ok and I am only too happy that I was there at the right time to help.

The New Neighbors!

Just outside the front door there is an arbor that has a couple of vines growing on it.  Although the Jasmine is doing well, it is the Seven Sisters Rose that has dominated the twelve foot wide structure.  This rose has done so well that I have to severely trim it each year for fear that it will soon take over the entire area and I will not be able to go under the archway and through the gate.  By the end of summer, the long runners will reach down to the ground and completely block off the walkway under the arbor.  On the positive side, if I did let it just grow with wild abandon, I guarantee that no burglars would ever break into the Little Bayou House!  This is one of the thorniest rose bushes that I have ever grown!  It seems as if those long runners reach out and grab hold to you if you are within ten feet of the bush!  Ouch!

Someone else had the same idea about the burglars.  Up on top of the arbor but under those rose canes is a ramshackled nest.  It consists of about a dozen or so twigs sort of haphazardly thrown together and called home.  But..it is home.  It is home to a pair of Mourning Doves.  Mama Dove sits patiently through all of the crazy weather we have had of late.   The rains and high winds of yesterday did not deter her.  Nor did the warmish sunshine and temperatures in the high seventies that we saw today.  I am just as certain that she will stay put through the change that is coming tonight in the form of a cold front that is blasting in upon us.  The north winds are whipping about the house but at least there is no rain.  In a way, these doves were smart...at least for northerly winds.  The arbor (and their nest) sit just about ten feet from the front door on the south side of the house.  The house blocks most of the cold winds.  Hopefully, she will not build another nest here come hurricane season!  Those southerly winds from any tropical system will not do her nest any good.

Mama Dove has no qualms about me or Ms. Ez being right beneath her when we go through the gate to the pier.  I could reach up and touch her if I so desired.  Perhaps she was seeking some sort of protection by building her nest here. Maybe she figured that if she was close to me, she would be out of harm's way.  Last year, she built on top of the grape arbor.  This was not too good as the young vines were sparse and did not provide much coverage for her.  Once her little ones hatched, the hawk swooped in and made quick work of the hatchlings.   Poor Mama and Daddy Dove were distraught to say the least.  I felt so bad for the babies but even worse for the parent birds.  I am in hopes that the rose vines will at least give her and the little ones a bit of security from any marauding predators in the area...and there are many.  During the day, Ms. Ez will stand guard.  She has already noticed the nest and Mama Dove.  Ms. Ez loves her birds so I am positive she will take her place by the gate for the next few weeks.  Come nighttime, though, Mama and Daddy Dove are on their own.  I sure hope for the best.

Sad Day on the Bayou

For the past ten days or so, I have been careful not to make too much ruckus in the rose garden.  Everyday business of gardening, playing with the puppy or merely walking through the arbor to head down the board path continued but no trimming the sprawling rose canes or using the weed trimmer within the garden fences.  The reason for all of this careful avoidance of disturbance..a Mourning Dove decided that the rose arbor was the place to build her nest.  For the past ten days she was sitting there cautiously eyeing all that passed beneath her.  I did not wish to disturb her brooding time so the roses grew scraggly, the grass went to seed on long stalks and I waited.  I was sure that soon I would hear baby birds.

The battered nest after it was raided by a hawk.

I was wrong.  Instead of the peeping of little birds, I heard the squawking of Blue Jays and the barking of squirrels.  Something was amiss outside!  Ms. Ez and I rushed out to see what was causing all of the commotion just in time to see the Sparrow Hawk rise up from the arbor.  My sweet dove was in his clutches!  There was nothing that I could do other than yell at the bird.  I know this meant nothing to the hawk but somehow it made me feel a bit better.  I worried about the eggs left in the nest.  Pondering just what should be done, I peeked in the nest.  There were two small babes..dead.  Obviously, the violent attack had left the babies quite bloodied and there was no hope.  As I stood on my ladder peering into the nest shambles, the father bird made his appearance.  He looked so forlorn.  Not but a few feet from me, he softly cooed at the nest.  His head bobbled and he tried to rouse the babies.  He called and called for the mother but she was gone..his family was gone.  I wanted to cry.  I felt as if I should console this parent somehow. What a terrible blow.

The neighboring dove that witnessed the terrifying scene.

Now I am concerned for another Mourning Dove that is nesting not ten feet from where this one was on the arbor.  A small oak tree holds the nest of another pair of doves and I wonder if tomorrow, I will awake to a similar grisly scene.  This is all part of nature and I know that I should not interfere but I do worry about the doves.