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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