There’s an avian congregation here. They meet every day at the pond before dinnertime and I don’t dare step outside to join them. When one Mourning Dove freaks out, the rest follow suit.
I’ve regularly made fun of Mourning Doves here for over three years.
Mourning Doves are not the sharpest tools in the shed and are terrible homebuilders and housekeepers with insatiable appetites but
what’s not to like about a Mourning Dove?
Does it really matter if they are pigeon-toed and can’t prance like a Killdeer or Robin? In the air, they’re like small, gray, high-speed jets. I like that about them and the way their tiny, dopey, skulls bob when they waddle on their way to supper.
They love, or seem to…
My best bird moments were far more exciting than watching Mourning Doves do what they do; however, the little knuckleheads have given me endless hours of entertainment.
It’s not fair that I’ve mocked them and sometimes complained about the space they fill out back. I take it back.
Because I’ll admit to smiling at a Mourning Dove more often than most other birds… (except for Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds, of course).
For me, this pose is hilarious.
They ARE pretty. I’ll never turn my back on them and will always snap away. That is, of course, unless a Pileated Woodpecker is in the area...