THE WILLS WILDLIFE SANCTUARY: MY UPCOMING TONY SOPRANO MOMENT

Frani and I's favorite Sopranos moment is an early one.  When the ducks leave Tony's pool, and he begins to have debilitating panic attacks.  The way James Gandolfini performs a character so vicious and yet deserving of a smidgen of sympathy is a gift the man had that many don't.  God rest him. 

A couple of weeks ago as Frani and I were going through the nightly constitutional of taking the dogs out, something stunned us both.  For a couple of consecutive nights, we surprised a mourning dove, who could be heard chirping and fluttering up against the ceiling of the patio in a panic of sorts. I felt guilty both times, but was wondering what in the hell he/she was doing there well after dark. 

The answer came days later.  While I was at work, Frani sent me a text that made me smile.  In the upside-down guard of a weed-whacker resting against the wall of the patio, right outside Cameron's window, was a nesting mourning dove.  A few days later, another text came, this time Frani updating me that babies (or squabs) were peeking out from under the adult dove.  They weren't just building the nest, they were brooding. 

Bursts of research showed that the doves pick spots like this intentionally.  The ceiling of the patio provides excellent cover from assholes like Blue Jays. It's wonderful in its ability to provide shelter from inclement weather, which Texas occasionally has in the spring.  And human activity keeps away multiple types of predators. 

We learned a few other things.  How often they feed.  How long the parents will stay, leave, and return.  How quickly they will grow.  We've become invested in these little guys, and hope that they do well. The parents have left them overnight twice as of this point, still returning to feed them.  When we go out with the canines we can hear their alternating calls, which are probably alerts for the young, since they are almost the size of their parents at this point. 

Sadly, they will be leaving soon.  We've seen one jump to a neighboring shelf only to return when the parent came back.   It won't be long before they legitimately leave, and according to what I've read, it's a one-way trip, in which the male takes over for a couple weeks teaching his kiddos to forage, seek shelter, and fly. 

I just hope I don't turn into Tony Soprano when they do depart without return and have an aviary psychotic break. 

Here's a video that I made in honor of this wonderful little injection of hardwired yet feathered and gorgeous nature into our lives. 

ADDENDUM:    As of four days prior to this writing, January 3rd, the twins as we call them, have flown the coop.  It's made me sad in a sense, especially right away, but hold on a minute.  Every day, they've returned in some form or fashion.  A couple times landing in the yard pecking around.   Two other times, I awoke, and upon walking out to scout the yard before taking the dogs out, they greeted me from behind the mimosa tree.  They don't seem rattled at all when seeing Frani or I.  They're tentative, for certain, but far from skittish. 

I've seen the parents separate them, still feeding them, fly off with them, only to return with them later.  The father, stopping to drink from the shallow water dish I left out, jumps over to the babies to give them water.  He joins his partner hanging out from the chimney, Mama from the garage corner, to oversee the babies as they play, hop, and peck around in our yard.  I hope, for them, the back yard feels like home.  Because the parents' recurring appearances after the twins fledged, and watching the babies grow has made Frani and I love having them around. 

I've read that mourning doves can become accustomed and less fearful of friendly voices.  We've always spoken to the birds as sweetly and kindly as possible, long before we became aware of that fact.  

All of this seems to have brought us a little flutter of love that, at least for a while, brings some joy to parts of our days. 

ADDENDUM II:  Sunday, June 6 was the last day the doves were here.  It was very melancholic, almost bittersweet in how it all came about.  During mid-afternoon, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye that turned out to be one of the adult doves.  They swooped in to the back porch, where it all started, and even briefly lit upon the genesis of it all, the weed whacker's guard.  He/She then flew off into the sky.  

Shortly after, I did what Frani and I had been doing all week, grabbing the binoculars in order to survey the back yard looking for "the twins".  The Twins had been in an out of the yard all week, pecking, playing, being fed by their folks, leaving and returning.  Eventually just before dusk, the parents would show up. and the family would venture off together for the day. 

I didn't need binoculars this time.  By dinner, I looked out the back door to see one of the young doves sitting in the rock bed next to the sidewalk.  Exactly the same spot that one of the babies landed when they first fledged.  That first day, the fledgling hung out in that spot for a few hours before disappearing into the dark at sunset.  Fran and I were so worried about those two at that point.  The other fledged to the top of a propane tank just to the left of the nest, joining their twin at dusk. 

Fears were allayed.  They both returned the next day and for the week.  Until Sunday, that is.  

The baby continued to hang out in that rock bed for a couple of hours.  Being a worrywart, I approached him, softly asking if he was alright.  The young dove looked up at me and proceeded to just venture down the sidewalk and into the yard, under what Frani calls "the bee house", a wooden contraption meant to attract honeybees.  It remained there until just before dark.  At that point, the young dove flitted up to the fence, remaining there for about 15 minutes as the sun dipped.  

Then he was gone. 

Part of me thinks, naively or not, that it was a goodbye visit.  The parent checking in on the nest one last time.  The youngster returning to where he/she first set themselves after fledging.  One last spell under the bee house by the mimosa, where the twins spent the vast majority of their first week out of the nest. 

And then giving the yard one last going over from the fence before departing.  Leaving to join, as the reading showed, a flock of other younglings to begin their adventures.  

Be well, young doves, We have nothing but love in our hearts for you. Thank you for giving us a window into the wonder that is Mother Nature, and the beauty of the circle of life.  It is not lost on me that in this era of strife that we are consistently dipped in every time the news is turned on, that the opposite showed up on the patio.  With all of the harsh and ugly intrusiveness that our current culture is practicing, it was a joy to see such splendor flutter outside the window.  

In the form of the dove.  The symbol of peace.