|A pair of mourning dove eggs which we discovered this morning on our front porch!|
Who doesn't love bird nests? I even have a few that I've kept and collected through the years, placed around here and there in the house. They are marvels of natural architecture and the cleverness of unspoken intuition. Every bird has a different type of building design, inherent to their breed. In the two summers before we moved from New Hampshire, a pair of nesting robins built their home on the upper ledge of one of our porch columns: they raised successive broods and we never disturbed their nest and neither did they seem bothered by our comings and goings.
This gnome was already in residence in the tree-like planter outside of our door, complete with dead ivy from last summer. The natural twiggy and somewhat loose construction of the mourning dove nest is reliant on a sturdier base (isn't Google wonderful?), like this planter full of soil. I was going to move the tall, many-tiered structure––made of twined grape vines––over to the cottage this spring but am reluctant to do so at all, even after this pair of mourning doves hatch. Apparently, if not threatened (and they easily are), mourning doves will return several times throughout the season, like other birds do, to have their nests. For some reason, their nests are often less hidden than those of other birds so this might mean we can't enjoy the porch that much: that's alright, really, as we'll spend most of our long summer days over at the farm cottage.
You come back when you're ready!
A footnote about 'Mourning Doves' ~ When I was a child in Akron, Ohio, our power lines ran behind the houses along our street (clever, really). I loved the sad song of the birds that would hang out on the lines and sing in the morning while I was playing outside: "ooo OOO ooo ooo ooo." Thing is, I thought they were "Morning Doves," and it was many years later that I realized they were named for their plaintive singing in a minor key.