11 posts tagged “doves”
[grins at the collective groan from the neighbourhood]
I was pottering down at the end of the garden, as you do, and while trying to tune out the sound of one of the neighbour's kids practising The Last Post on a trumpet, I gradually became aware of the soft "huu-huu" coming from nearby. Coming, in fact, from the middle of the b*st*rd spiny tree from heck.
So, armed with tea, ginger snaps, binoculars, and camera, I spent the next little while watching this pair build a nest. "Build" is probably over-stating; the canonical description is an improbably flimsy platform of twigs. At any rate, it's all very civilised: he goes off and fetches twigs from nearby gardens, while she sits on them and fusses at them with her beak until they more-or-less hold together. All the while, they're calling to each other: she softly, he the usual three-syllable call. (Useless factoid of the day: their specific name, Streptopelia decaocto, contains the Greek word for eighteen, because someone decided that's what their call sounds like. This just goes to show that you shouldn't go naming birds when you're hammered on Ouzo.)
Speaking of names, it's awfully tempting to nickname them Barack and Hillary, but really, what have the little birdbrains done to deserve that?
He hangs around the usual places (except for the nest), hoo-hoo-ing hopefully (he's up on across-the-street's TV aerial at the moment, watching me type this). But it looks like she's gone, and for whatever reason, she isn't coming back.
Earlier today, a sparrow was checking out the nest over next-door's halogen light. (I guess that's what you call an opportune-nest [ducks]). Ironically, the house has just been re-let - the previous tenants moved out last week.
FWIW, here's the last photo I have of the two of them together.
I looked out the window this morning, and one dove is fluffed out and preening about eight feet (2.5 m) away on top of a wooden rail that runs above the deck on the back of the house, while its mate is sitting atop the street lamp on the other side of the wall at the foot of the garden.
And a little further away, in the tree at the foot of the neighbour's garden, is a smaller bundle of fluff.
Now one or other adult has been in the nest (the one in the support for next door's halogen garden light) on and off since Christmas. I wasn't sure whether it was just sheltering from the cold and the wind (we've had gusts of 40-60 mph / 60-100 kph for much of the last couple of months), or there was something else going on. There'd been a certain amount of (cough!) activity on the local TV aerials and rooftops, you see. And early last week, I saw the adult tending something in the nest. I just wasn't expecting it to be so far along: 17 days to hatch, 19 to leave the nest (give or take) - this one must have started around Valentine's Day. Lovebirds, indeed.
I looked out a little later, and the chick was crop-diving into one of the parents. The camera was nearby, so I headed out, just as the parent flew out of the tree to join the other one atop my deck. They weren't at all worried by my standing nearby taking pictures - well, if they're not used to it by now...
The fact that they seem to like the deck as a perch and don't rate me as a threat is a good sign for photo ops. I'm going to have to watch how the poo situation develops, though.
In the meantime, have a bewildered youngster.
Those of you with long memories will remember I have a bit of a soft spot for the little birdbrains who took up residence in my neighbours' garden light fitting. Last time, they had just finished rearing their third brood and were making a start (ahem!) on number four.
Well. Hard to know exactly what happened, but everything seemed to be going fine, Tom and Danni (the parents) changed on schedule from merely sitting on the nest to actively tending something... until one day a couple of weeks into September when the nest was empty and neither parent showed any interest.
I suspect the magpies.
Interestingly, a few days later, a gang of collared doves - four or five, came screaming in and landed in the tree where the magpie nest was. A couple went in while the rest stayed in the top; a few seconds later, two magpies came flapping out in a bit of a panic and flew off.
It looked for all the world like the doves had got a few mates round to give the magpies a bit of a kicking. They might be small and lovey-dovey, but they can be pretty fierce.
I thought that might be that for the year - mid September, after all, days shortening, leaves turning, temperatures falling. But no, they were back on the nest, and in due course, just as the temperature dropped a few more degrees, two more little heads appeared.
Obviously, the sight of a young brood so late in the season has even the local sparrows and starlings intrigued...
It might be cold, but there's obviously lots of food around - nuts, berries, insects - and the parents were keeping extra busy to keep the meals coming in, as well as having to spend extra time warming the littluns up.
That was a couple of days ago, with the sun low in the west even at four in the afternoon. Quick in, feed, and out again.
The youngsters - I think we've reached Roy and Raymond in the Beagle Scouts pantheon - seem smaller and more fully fledged than their siblings were at the same age. Probably just as well, really.
Yesterday lunchtime, though, and...
No babies in the nest.
No babies in the garden.
This does not look good.
Tom, Danni, and one of the kids.
Raymond (how do I know? I just do), of course, had only one thing on his mind.
You might remember the pair of collared doves (aka lovebirds) that established a residence in next door's halogen garden light. It was way back in April when Tom and Danni started their first brood, and in due course, Dougie and Harriet appeared (don't worry about the names - it's a private joke). They ate, and grew, and eventually flew the nest, and few weeks later, Woodstock appeared, grew at twice the rate, fell out of the nest, and after a very shaky start, got the hang of life in the air.
That left Tom and Danni at a loose end, with half the summer left to go. And so, at the end of June...
It was around that time that the neighbour whose TV aerial they're, erm, using put the house on the market. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the strange goings-on appearing on her television (cheesy music and a lot of rumpled feathers), but you never know. Anyway, next day, and Danni was back on duty.
Exactly three weeks later, there was a change in the Tom and Danni's behaviour, from long periods of waiting and two changeovers a day, to much more obvious and frequent toing-and-froing.
As they swapped duties this time, I caught my first glimpse of the two new arrivals: Conrad and Olivia.
Yeah, in the absence of imagination, I'm continuing with the Woodstock / Beagle scouts theme, because, well, just look at them...
The youngsters grew very quickly. I'd thought that Woodstock's rate of growth was down to being a single egg, but Conrad and Olivia seemed to be growing at the same rate. Of course, there's a lot more food available in late July than there was two months earlier, and Tom and Danni had also had a lot of practice.
Another week, and the youngsters were fledged enough for the Tom and Danni to spend a few moments away from the nest.
Only a few moments, though.
For a start, the kids were getting more active. Conrad, in particular, was starting to move around, explore the rest of the light fitting, practise hopping into the nest without running head-first into the brick wall.
At the bottom of the garden on the far neighbours' side is a cypress tree that also contained a nest - a nest of magpies that were now fully fledged and ready to start hunting for themselves. Hunting snacks, like, say, nestling doves.
A magpie, even a young one, is easily twice the size of a collared dove. Obviously, the doves have something up their sleeves, because even one will see off the bigger bird.
Tom and Danni were still around, though, obviously still on the feeding rota, scrambling every so often to intercept a marauding magpie. As when Woodstock disappeared from the nest, they started spending time either in the neighbours' garden or perching, watching over it.
No sight of the kids, though.
Five days later, I happened to glance out a window on the other side of my house, which has a fine view of the other neighbours' gutter.
Guess who'd stopped by for a visit...
Conrad, however, was still rather new to the whole flying thing, and it took him a bit of careful planning and a couple of attempts before he managed it. Bless...
And, yup, the very next day, Tom and Danni were at it again on the neighbour's aerial. Expect developments around the 30th...
Just a week ago, and we caught our first sighting of Woodstock, youngest member of the Houselight Family.
Fuzzy, yellow(ish), humongous nose; mostly bald and still spending much of the day curled up under one or other of the parents.
Doves and pigeons, it turns out, produce what's called crop milk, a buttery substance packed with protein, and that's what the chicks are diving for when they're feeding.
The other trick doves and pigeons have is to decide whether to lay one or two eggs. The first clutch was two. Now it's just Woodstock, and he's on double rations.
The parents are usually close by, and often together, but they only return to the nest for feeding and a cuddle.
Couldnt' see much for the next two days; just the odd beady eye staring down from behind the edge of the nest, and I never quite seemed to be there at the right time to catch feeding.
When it was the pair of chicks, they spent a lot of time preening, cuddling, competing... A single chick is on his own for many hours a day. Given that they're such sociable little critturs, it makes me wonder what effect that has on his
He's not started doing pre-flight exercises yet, but it can't be far off.
I just hope he stops growing so fast, or else it's going to be like the 500-lb parrot: Polly want a cracker. Now!
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the garden.
The first lot of kids has grown up and flown away (Hmm. Never got round to posting those photos... maybe later) so naturally enough, it's time for the second lot.
The parents were already "expressing an interest" (cough!) in a second brood even while the first was still in the nest, and it continued apace while the youngsters had moved to the nearby tree, quite often in full view of them. Perhaps that's how turtledoves give the birds and bees talk to their youngsters. Who knows?
They took a few days, were sniffing around the nest, and have been roosting for around four weeks. I'd guess the egg(s) hatched about a week ago; the parents have been sitting differently in the nest, and tending something with their beaks every few minutes.
Today, though, I got to see one of the new chicks for the first time. I happened to hear the "Honey I'm ho-ome" call from one of them, and got the camera outside just after they swapped over.
Which, in baby turtledove life, means feeding time. The crop diving looks a lot less violent when the chick is this size.
And when it comes up for air...
Well, that one is obviously named "Woodstock". There's normally a pair of eggs in a clutch, so I'm guessing Woodstock has a brother/sister. Any Peanuts fans remember the names of any of Woodstock's relatives? Harriet?
Anyway, a little bit of a scratch from dad (I think) to ease those fledging itches, a little cuddle, and it's time to snuggle back down into the warm until the next meal arrives.
Photographic footnote: I was pretty much shooting against the sun into shadows, which is why these look a little washed out. A few cursory attempts to boost the contrast also upped the noise artefacts, so I've left them for now.
Yesterday morning, yet again unseasonably clear and bright (if breezy), and both parents are hanging around the nest. (Frame from a movie clip, shot almost into the sun, so terrible quality.) You can see how close the nest is to people-space here, though.
The chicks were restless, hopping up onto the top of the light, doing calesthenics and stretches, looking for all the world like they were going to take off any second.
As it turns out, this was as close as they got, a clumsy kind of flapping off the edge of the nest and around the light. It's flying in the sense that if it'd stopped flapping, it would have gone splat on the ground, I guess, but. (Camera was set for movies, and I was shielding my eyes against the sun, so didn't quite catch the "take off".
An hour or so later, though, I heard the parents and went out for another look (without the camera - brainiac...) just as one of the youngsters broke from a tree and flapped its way onto the neighbours roof. It was a bit like those films of early attempts at landing on aircraft carriers.
Ten minutes later, and both youngsters are sitting on the parents' favourite branches in the tree at the bottom of the garden, looking more than a little like maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all.
In which I remember my camera also makes movies..
Actually, this first set of photos is from yesterday, mid-morning. I don't know how they all managed to squeeze in there, but there were the two chicks and one of the adults. I think it's the hen, but it's hard to tell when the adults aren't together.
It's still easy to tell chicks from adults, though. The chick has short tail feathers and no collar and is still quite a bit smaller.
Sometime around noon, I got to see the first of two feedings. You can clearly see both chicks here, and get an idea just how dangerous it is with all those beaks probing and darting in - most of the time, the chicks are digging together in the parent's gullet.
It's pretty intense
The parents, for their part, have been staying away from the nest but calling from nearby. It was about five hours between feeds this afternoon; I'm sure they were trying to lure the chicks into taking their first flight.
A couple of times, I thought it was going to happen. Whether it would be by accident or by design, well, I wouldn't want to place my money on it.
Wouldn't surprise me to see them fly tomorrow, though.
I thought I'd see how well my camera takes movies. This is actually a crop (a quarter of the original frame, taken near the center, which probably makes this something like 24x zoom). And for once, I also remembered to put my camera on the tripod.
In all honesty... I thought there was going to be a maiden flight here. The adults had been hanging around, calling all afternoon but not going in to feed. So it was a bit of a surprise when the adult swooped in at last. You can probably hear the other adult calling.
You must be sick of turtledoves by now, but here's one last pair of pictures. It was about half an hour after the feeding. Interesting that such dopey animals seem to remember to do what humans all too often forget.