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.

Feathered Ambition

Doves have been special to us ever since our courtship. When we moved to our current house we were delighted to see that there were doves nesting under the solar panels opposite. (See previous blog.)

However the owners of the solar panels were less impressed and blocked the birds’ access with wire netting. Still convinced that it was their home, the doves returned for a while but soon it became rarer to see them. 

I missed them.

Then I overheard a conversation in an upmarket junk shop in Cornwall. A woman browsing amongst the stuffed owls and Formica table tops was telling her companion how she had been given three pairs of doves as a wedding gift and now had a whole flock.

My ears flapped. My mouth gaped. I looked down to see I was gripping an antique prosthetic leg.

Hastily I put it down and left to ring Nigel. "We could get our own doves!"

Nigel did some research. 

There was an obstacle. In order to feel that our garden was their home, the birds would need to be cooped up here for 6 weeks. 

"But when would we be at home all the time for six whole weeks?"

When I've had surgery on my foot. That's when.

So we are seizing the day and getting some doves. At last I will not be the only one being "cooped up" at our house.