Looks like something's ruffled this mourning dove's feathers, doesn't it? But looks are deceiving. Messy plumage aside, he sits calmly on the back fence this morning, greeting the new day with gentle cooing. Other than the mockingbirds, what better alarm clock could there possibly be?
Both he and his mate like to plop themselves in the middle of things, especially if food's involved. Every morning, it's the same. The goldfinches gather for a breakfast meeting–a songfest, with lots of seed consumption. The mourning doves make a crash landing. A commotion ensues. The goldfinches take wing, scolding the mourning doves as they fly away en masse. The feeder swings wildly, but those bulky doves just stare straight ahead, as if to say, "Nothing to see here, tra la la. Move along folks, move along." I watch this recurring drama from my kitchen window every morning, join the house finches when they laugh. Mighty fine background music, don't you think?
"It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds," the legendary Aesop once said. They may be the stuff of folklore, but Aesop's words contain an underpinning of truth that I witness through my open windows every day.
barbarabaker
I love mourning doves. I put food out for them on my window ledge every morning. Between them and my two regular squirrels, I feel I’m starting the day off right.
Melodye Shore
I can easily understand why you’d say that.:)
What kinds of food are their favorites? They seem to like the finch’s nyjer (thistle) seed quite a lot.
barbarabaker
They seem very happy with wild bird seed I get at the supermarket. They don’t eat the sunflower seeds mixed in, but the squirrels do, and so does the occasional cardinal.
Melodye Shore
Sounds like you attract quite the menagerie. I love the thought of that. (And I love the pictures you’ve posted!) 🙂
tracyworld
What a lovely post. And the photo! You captured something I love so much about mourning doves: the intricate layering of their feathers.
Thank you for sharing your view with us, Melodye.
Melodye Shore
Thank you, Tracy. I love how they fluff their plumage, as if to suggest that there’s something deeper, more richly textured to them than what’s suggested by their smooth outer feathers. Truth be told, I don’t think that applies to their brain power. They don’t seem, uh, gifted in that area. 🙂
coldhighmountai
mourning doves cooing on a country lane bring back good childhood memories. so do the smells of early morning summers.
Melodye Shore
Mmmm, lovely images! Thank you for taking me on your walk down memory lane.
coldhighmountai
when I was young, the wilderness was right on the edge of our neighborhood. there was an old farm with horses, a trotter track, and woods between Akron and Cleveland. the road in front of our house was cinders. now it is wall to wall suburbs with the avenue paved nearly up to the front door. there is an oak tree in the side yard that I estimate to be 200 years old, a reminder from the creator of where we came from.
Melodye Shore
Long live that oak tree, and the lovely memories it evokes. xoxo
coldhighmountai
;+))
anabelgonzalez
The photo is beautiful. I have food for humming birds in my balcony and it surprised me how they protect the food from each other. I never thought they could be aggressive.
Melodye Shore
I know what you mean…male hummingbirds are super agressive! Walk beneath their feeder, and they’ll dive-bomb your head. They’re no help at all to Mama Hummingbird, I learned; they expend all their energies on protecting their territory, instead.
asakiyume
I love mourning doves’ eyes, and I love the sound they make (is it their wings or their voices?) as they fly away.
Nice avian crowd, it sounds like, at your place in the morning.
I put out peanuts and watch the bluejays gather; sometimes a titmouse comes, and the ninja girl said a downy woodpecker came the other day too. Along the neighbor’s fence, the catbird watches, but catbirds don’t care for peanuts, so they don’t come up.
Melodye Shore
I think that sound is a 2-part harmony between their voices & their wings.
Lovely, to think of all those feathered creatures, hanging around the feeder. You’re the “popsicle mom,” and your backyard = the neighborhood’s picnic grounds. 🙂