I learned something new today. I read that freshly hatched doves are silent; unlike most birds that chirp or coo incessantly for food, baby doves make virtually no sound.
I didn’t hear anything for a couple of days, so I climbed up on a stepladder to see inside the nest and there was this gorgeous little one gazing at me with his gentle round eyes. I thought there were two eggs, but there’s only one, and he seems quite content.
Baby mourning doves are ready to fly and leave the nest when they’re about two weeks old, but they stay close to their parents and continue to be fed by them for another week or two.
The nest is now empty but they’re still here in the garden, and even came to visit me on the deck. I feel lucky to be chosen as a safe haven for these placid, peaceful creatures.
There are a lot of doves around here AND a lot of hawks. I’ve actually watched them hunt doves, and because they’re not the most swift birdies, it’s not even a contest. The hawk wins every time. It’s a traumatizing experience for ME because there’s nothing I can do to save them from their terrible fate.
Yesterday, I noticed some ripe grapes in one of the arbors in my garden so I climbed on a ladder to snip the cluster when I spied a rough twig-filled nest wedged on top between the vines.
Camouflaged so adorably was a mama dove sitting in the nest looking right at me with her big round eyes. I think there are two eggs in her nest.
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
I grabbed the grapes and climbed down as fast as I could to not further disturb or scare mom.
I’m not sure this is the most secure location to raise a family so I’ll do all I can to keep them safe. “You can trust me, mama dove!”
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
A dove pair may raise two families in a single summer. Mourning doves mate for life – about seven to ten years. If a mate dies, the remaining dove will persevere in its futile attempts to evoke a response from its lifeless mate. Driven by hunger, thirst, threat, or nightfall, the bird will ultimately depart. SAD!!!
Doves are mainly ground feeders which makes them extremely vulnerable to being swooped up by predators. They’re almost 100% granivores, feasting on grains and seeds from wild grasses, weeds, and herbs. I stopped filling the bird feeders because of RATS and squirrels so these guys are on their own, but that doesn’t seem to bother them.
Like all birds, Mourning Doves are unable to sweat, so to stay cool during hot weather … they pant just like a dog. Panting requires the doves to drink a great deal of water due the excessive loss of moisture to evaporation. Doves are one of the few species of birds that drink by sucking up their water instead of taking a bill full of water and letting it trickle down their throat. It can suck up its total daily requirement in less than twenty seconds.
Symbolically, it’s believed that when a dove visits you, they bring a message from a loved one who has passed away or a sign of peace and comfort during times of grief. Two doves together symbolize unity, partnership, and love.
I left the ladder nearby so I can check on mama’s progress. Soon, I hope to hear the chirping of hungry little dove babies.
The mournful song of my little dove reminded me of a poem by Becky Hemsley.
She walked along the pathway And she hadn’t walked for long When she met a little bird Who sang a melancholy song She listened for a moment To his sad, enchanting sound And she asked him why he sang his song When no-one was around “I sing to tell the forest That the day has just begun And I join the morning chorus As we’re welcoming the sun I sing so all the other birds Will know they’re not alone And I hum to all the trees To help their leaves and branches grow I sing for all the creatures As they go about their day And I whistle warnings to the sky That clouds are on their way” But why,” she asked him gently “Is your song so bittersweet? Why does it sound like longing And like yearning when you tweet?” “I sing to feel less lonely,” Said the tiny, little bird “And I tweet into the quiet Just so I can feel heard For when the sun is busy, When the other birds have flown, When the trees are climbing skyward Then I’m left here on my own And I sing to ask the questions That are tearing through my mind But I don’t know what I fear the most Silence… or the reply”
I hoped the dove had escaped even though I know doves are a favorite meal of birds of prey. Honestly, with all the rats and mice and bunnies running rampant in my garden, I think those creatures are much better options than a poor little bird.
I heard a familiar “coocoocoo” — take a look at what I found on my deck, none other than the dove. She wasn’t alone; there was a baby dove, too! They weren’t at all scared of me as I crept closer and closer to see if anyone was injured by the hawk.
I’ve never before seen them on the deck. As usual, I didn’t want to interfere unless it was necessary. They sat close together for a couple of hours, then mom flew up to the roof.
She spent a long time calling to the baby to encourage him to fly to her, to no avail. Just as I was prepping a box with a soft towel to scoop up the baby for a visit to Project Wildlife, the mom came back.
This time, they flew away together.
It was a happy ending for the doves and I was once again impressed but not surprised by the obvious caring and affectionate behavior of animals to their children that often far surpasses human maternal actions.
Mom’s devotion to her child was inspiring. Who can claim animals aren’t sentient beings?
Animal moms are some of the best moms on this planet.
**This is so strange. I only published this post today, June 26, but it shows that it was published on the 24th, so I am RE-writing and posting again. Very odd WordPress, very odd.
We had a bit of rain, just a few drops, definitely not the kind of rain we need here in the Southwest, but I think my veggie garden was grateful for it.
When I went outside to check on the status of baby lettuce seedlings, I noticed a Monarch butterfly entangled in the netting surrounding the garden. I’ve been forced to use the barrier to keep out squirrels and rats and bunnies. There are plenty of other things in the garden those guys can eat, so I don’t feel too bad about restricting them from my yummy greens.
Carefully, I removed the netting from those delicate wings.
After flying off, s/he returned with a mate and they circled my head a few times as if to thank me. “You’re welcome, guys! I was glad to help.”
Later that afternoon, right before dusk, I went for a walk. There were still beautiful clouds in the sky and I was thinking happy thoughts about the butterflies.
Suddenly, before I could even react, several things happened at once. A white van was driving down the street faster than the twenty-five mile an hour speed limit. A dove flew low across the street, left to right. (Yup, you can see where this is going.) The driver MUST have seen the bird, I’m sure of it.
Without slowing down or trying to avoid the imminent impact, the van ran into the bird, and to make it even more horrific, the back tires finished the slaughter. There were no other cars on the road; simply slowing down would have avoided it completely.
It doesn’t matter to me that there was nothing I could have done to prevent this tragedy. I ran out into the street to see if I needed to take the bird to a vet, but it was too late. Too late. I crouched down on my knees over the little dove almost in shock at the massive destruction the van did to his body. I took a photo because I wanted to remember the poor dear and honor his/her life, but it’s too gruesome to post and I feel it would be disrespectful to the innocent creature.
The bird was probably on his way home, and there might have been nesting babies that won’t be fed and won’t survive all because of the actions of one unaware or uncaring human. What if it was one of the doves I just wrote about that often visit me in the garden? How incredibly sad.
Well, that stripped me of the joy of saving a butterfly, that’s for sure. I’m a fixer and a helper. It’s a tough lesson for me to comprehend that sometimes things can be so terribly damaged that they can’t be mended or put back together, like this poor little bird who was beyond repair.
This made me think of Prince. When doves cry, so do I.
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