The Doves

Only a few feet from my front door, atop the column on my front porch, a pair of mourning doves have built their nest. The mama and I have gotten quite used to each other.

Every evening, I've been bringing bird seed out to her, or a sprig of millet from the parrots' supply. I put it out, and I sit. I wait for her to begin cooing. She's calling to her mate. For all I know, he may be calling to her to let her know he's near, but I don't hear him first. I hear her. That's when I retreat indoors. Within moments he appears, and begins to gather my offerings.

Mama is quite beautiful, and lets me get very, very close. When the babies hatch, I'll leave them to feel safe, and I'll watch from indoors. But for now, I'm really enjoying being allowed close to my new little friend.

If you click on the picture you can see the lovely pale blue ring around her big brown eyes. There's much more color to her plumage than these pictures show. There are rusts and umbers on her head, and ivories and deep navies in her wings. She and her mate are both lovely creatures, studies in pastels and peace. In a very challenging and tumultuous time for me, the chance to witness the patience and devotion of these birds has provided an unexpected oasis for my soul.