Sometimes I like taking True out in the early mornings. Sometimes not. I do especially like those misty, silent mornings. There's no traffic noise, people aren't up and around yet, the fog muffles the few sounds that are out there. It's just True and me, she running lickety-split after the ball and me throwing for as long as my arm holds out.
Periodically these last several weeks we've had company. There's a mourning dove that sits either in the big ol' twisted coastal cedar in the neighbors' yard or on top of the phone pole a block away. Sometimes I can hear him but not see him. I love his breathy, whistling/yodeling (yes, mournful) call. "Who cries for you? Who cries for you?" No expectations. We don't have to acknowledge each other. He's good company.
I have a family of mourning doves living in my back yard. They are so sweet but not really very smart. We have been watching & feeding them for several years. Each year, they stack a pile of twigs and some yard debris in the wisteria and call it a nest. Last years baby has been slow to move on tho' we are hoping he finds a mate soon.
ReplyDeleteI listen for his (her?) call, now. Your assessment of their smarts reminds me of the family of quail we had on our street several years ago. Those babies were such fun to watch - so tiny and fast that we couldn't count them. Then, one-by-one, the babies started disappearing. The adult members of the covey would make their way along the fence line every morning trailed by what was left of the babies until there weren't any more. The adults would just head on out on their own agenda - seemingly without a thought to the babies - whether there were cats or anything else out and about. They need to learn a little op-sec! (Operational Security per Marine son).
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