There’s nothing newsworthy about doves on the roof. And, as much as I hate to admit it, a gutter full of twigs is not unusual, either.
However, in this instance the two are related.
It wouldn’t be my first choice, were I seeking a place to nest, but she seems content.
Fortunately, this part of the roof doesn’t drain much. As long as we don’t get any tropical storms, the nest should be safe.
There’s a family of doves in our front flower bed. Two fledglings, with two tired parents, spent yesterday and today following patches of sun through the irises. I’ve enjoyed watching them, and so have the cats.
Our yard is full of doves. I watch and listen as they amble along our fence, browse beneath the feeders, and coo low love songs from our roof. I follow their nests in our pear tree, in our roses and pansies, and wave goodbye when the fledglings fly away. Do they return, sometimes, when they are ready for nests of their own?
All these doves in our yard. Do they also watch and listen, wondering where we came from and where we will go?
Rae Spencer 