Friday, August 5, 2016

The Mourning Doves August 5, 2016

Though this blog is an account of life at Pi (not “Life of Pi”), I’d like to insert a little commentary about my alternate universe – San Francisco – where amid the grit, fog, traffic, cacophony of languages, and unbridled construction there too lies nature.  My neighborhood, tucked into the northeastern slope of the Sutro Forest, is home to a coyote family, for example.  Of course the raccoons and squirrels are rampant, and my back “yard” (more accurately imagined as a “cliff”) has been host to a possum, not to mention many types of butterflies, both majestic and delicate, and birds, from the noisy parrots of Telegraph Hill, who flock here routinely, to the emerald hummingbirds.

My current pleasure is a pair of mourning doves, who have taken residence in the wisteria above my kitchen window, made lush by this year’s rains and fed by an underground creek.  Though the doves are a constant presence, it didn’t occur to me that a nest was in progress until I finally put two and two together.  The back stairs to the garage were strewn with little twigs, which I had originally assumed were detritus from the wind (we have a lot of that in San Francisco, too!).  But I soon realized that the industrious couple was attempting to fashion a nest, and it wasn’t going too well.  Initially, when the nest was quite sketchy, one of the eggs slipped through to the supporting wood below.  I picked it up and gently tucked it back in.

Now the nest is thick, with two small white eggs (apparently the mourning doves can produce six broods a year) and one of the parents patiently incubating them.  Last night it rained and I noticed the bird is still is covered in droplets.  I quietly hoist the blinds and open the bedroom windows to get a better look from above.  Perhaps next week, on my return to the city, I will see a pair of squabs, begging to be fed.

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