Sh*t and Twigs

When we first introduced doves to the dovecote on the end of our house, they amused us with their amateurish nest-building.

Doves are poor at estimating the width of an opening.  Again and again, the twigs they picked up failed to fit through the little doorways.  A mound of twigs gathered on the ground beneath.

And then, when they did get the twigs into the nest holes, our doves failed to display any artistry.

Nigel was having one of his period clean-outs of the dovecote when I saw what he was doing and berated him –

‘You’ve just pulled a whole nest out!’

He brandished what was in his hand: ‘But it’s nothing but sh*t and twigs!’

‘That’s exactly it!  Doves make a loose nest of twigs.’  And then sh*t on it, apparently.

 

Earlier this year, the dove situation was looking a bleak.

Each night, fewer doves were roosting in the dovecote. 

A well-fed sparrowhawk had been picking them off, leaving only a swirl of white downy feathers.

Those who remained preferred to roost further down the street, under the solar panels of our friends, Claire and Bruce.

 

However, to our surprise, new doves have found their way to us this spring – including one with a ring that shows it is from elsewhere and another which looks as if it has a fantail parent.

 

We look at the ground beneath our dovecote and vow we have never been so pleased to see a heap of sh*t and twigs.