Although there are few in the animal world whom I look on with disfavor, pigeons are one of them. While I'm (perhaps unreasonably) prejudiced against pigeons, I find their country cousins to be beautiful birds.
And I believe this is where my prejudice lies.
Here in North America, Rock Pigeons are often associated with cities. Mourning Doves with the countryside. Or at least that has been my personal experience.
Growing up in a beautiful north country area that also functioned as a magnet for urban tourists, many of whom brought their anti-rural bias and urban arrogance with them on their travels, I've a strong penchant for the rural and uncivilized.
"What a fine savagery we had then . . . long before the notion of civilization. We knew the languages of earth, water, and trees . . . we spoke with the animals and they spoke with us." - Linda Hogan, Solar Storms
"Savage" at its heart simply means "of the woods, wild." "Civilization" at its heart simply means "city." Yet in the English language all that is evil and horrid is wrapped up in the definition of the first word, while all that is ideal and wonderful is defined by the latter.
When I see Mourning Doves and Rock Pigeons, this culture clash immediately comes to mind. The poor imported pigeons. For no other reason then their association with civilization, my instinctive reaction to them is not a pleasant one.
I promise to work on that.
In the meantime, however, I wanted to learn more about their country cousins.
First I discovered that Mourning Doves are about as camera-shy as the Blue Jays, always working to keep a small thicket of branches between themselves and my camera. Me as a human they keep an eye on and will fly away from in a flurry of chirps and flutter of wings if I come too close. But my camera? They keep a most wary eye on it even when it's staying put.
And if you've ever truly looked at a camera pointing its "eye" at you, it's not hard to see why.
While Mourning Doves have been common for us here year-round, the bird authorities say they aren't year-round in northern areas like the Upper Peninsula, but they may possibly winter as far north as southern Michigan.
I guess the Mourning Doves in our forest-yard never did get that memo. Although they perhaps have received the one on climate change.
In summers, doves have been observed raising several broods -- in warmer climates as many as six. Western ornithologists believe doves (and pigeons) to be largely monogamous with the father tending the young with as much dedication as the mother.
Both parents build the flat, disk-like twig nest. The Peterson Field Guide to North American Bird Nests says doves can nest as high as 80 meters (approximately 320 feet), although Audubon believes nests are usually at less than 40 feet with a few only rarely above 100 feet. (Sadly with trees in North America considered marketable timber at only 70 years of age, the only place Mourning Doves can nest much higher than 100 feet since colonization is in urban areas.)
Both parents take turns incubating the eggs, and as the young grow (becoming ready to fledge at 2 weeks of age!), there is always at least one parent at the nest. Once fledged, while one brood is gradually learning to forage for themselves, the mother prepares for the next brood. The father continues to feed the earlier brood until they can provide for themselves.
Another very interesting aspect to Mourning Dove parenting is that the young are fed milk.
As if that wasn't interesting enough, unlike mammalian biology, dove biology has evolved so that both mom and dad produce this milk and feed it to their kids.
According to the Peterson Field Guide to North American Bird Nests, a few days before the eggs are to hatch, pigeon and dove parents of both sexes begin to produce this milk. As discussed in Wild About Michigan Birds, this milk is a secretion from the parent's crop, is high in Vitamins A and B, and has more fat and protein content than either human or cow milk!
All this great nutrition seems to work! Wild Mourning Doves can be long-lived. The oldest known was a dove who had been banded in 1968 and was shot in 1998 -- he was at least 30 years old.
As native birds, Mourning Doves are one of the few natives that some say have become more abundant as a result of colonization and the subsequent clearing of the land. And they seem intent on withstanding climate change as well.
I will work on my prejudice against the Mourning Dove's city cousin. I'm sure Rock Pigeons are fascinating birds with complex lives and avian cultures. One thing about being ignorant of something is looking forward to the journey of discovery that is yet to come!
In the meantime, I'll enjoy the company of the Mourning Doves around our place. And as I huddle close to my steaming mug of cocoa now, I most especially look forward to that time of the year when the call of a dove drifts in my window on a warm summer breeze, waking me to the blue skies of a sunny north country day.
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