Mourning Doves Are Loud As All Get-Out

This morning, before church and before coffee, I caught not one, but FOUR doves in our cottonwood tree.

I wonder what this guy did to deserve such isolation. Perhaps he was in quarantine for the ‘rona, or bird flu.

The others gossiped about his lack of hygiene.

Then this little guy showed up (upper right hand corner), and though his breast looks yellow here, he looked lime green to the naked eye. Not sure what kind of bird he is, but he belted out a chirpy song, unlike the coo of the doves.

And just like that, they flew away.

13 thoughts on “Mourning Doves Are Loud As All Get-Out”

    1. Well, stupid, their cooing sounds sad, like the call of a forlorn little beast. I think it was Elton John who said that sad songs say so much, and that’s all these little birds do. Honestly, their cooing can sound very aggressive in the wee hours (so it really SHOULD be “morning,” bc that’s when they are making their presence known), almost taunting. A nearby subdivision has a street called Mourning Dove, and I always thought that’s an awful name for a street. Would you want to live on Weeping Widow?

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      1. A nice home on Tragedy Circle. I see your point. Now, whenever I see one of these pretty little creatures I’ll say, “Thanks for making me look stupid, bird, I hope a cat eats you.” But, no, I’m the not vindictive type. 😁

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    1. Jerks! But do you have grackles? Grackles will come to your outdoor patio table at the restaurant and look you square in the eye while they grab pink packets of Sweet n Low off your table and fly away with them. Demons.

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      1. That’s the perfect name! They seriously swarm near McDonald’s and other domains of french fries. They look like black clouds at dusk in parts of Austin, and are so creepy as they line telephone wires by the thousands, to the point of thinking you’re in The Birds and Armageddon has come.

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