My mother, Barbara, is known for being skilled at many things. To name a few … she’s an incredible cook (her flan is perfection), an expert gardener (we affectionately call her the Garden-ator) and a fierce tennis player and bowler. Now we can add bird whisperer to the list. Here’s a guest post from my father about another of her impressive skills.
The Mourning Dove Whisperer by Paulino Lim Jr.
For five years now in Spring, Barbara has been running an Airbnb for doves. The bnb is a brown plastic pot filled with leaves and twigs, hanging from the west beam of the pergola. The dove “guests” come in pairs, the smaller dove about to lay eggs. Barbara watches them through the sliding glass doors while working on the computer on the desk facing the garden.
The doves flit about in the garden, the water fountain, and other hanging plants before trying on the nest. They may be called birth tourists, like pregnant foreigners giving birth to babies to gain U.S. citizenship. Each season the Airbnb averages three births, with twins each birth. In five years there have been only two failures: one with both babies dying because the male pigeon disappeared, and the other with only one egg hatching. The offspring become citizens of the garden.
Backyard oasis and a peaceful getaway.
Barbara would open the door and greet the doves in a falsetto voice, “Good morning. How are you?” She talks to them, and they no longer fly away from her. As soon as the doves vacate the nest, she removes the detritus and prepares it for the next pair. She recognizes some as returnees. This season two sets of doves had hatchlings; a couple more pairs might show up before Spring ends.
Something unusual happened this year. The backyard pot was occupied so resourceful doves made a home for themselves in the front hanging pot.
Clearly, the “guests” give Barbara’s accommodations five-star reviews. No wonder they are so eager to come stay.
