Have you met my Lester? Lester is my little mourning dove girl. We raised her from a naked, featherless nestling. We tried to be careful to preserve her "wildness," but somehow she imprinted on our dog. She now lives a dog's life.
She bathes in and drinks from the dogs' water dish. . .
She sleeps in the dog's bed:
She greets family members at the door when they arrive back home . . . how she doesn't get stepped on, I'll never know . . .
She likes potato chips on the occasion we crumple a bit for her . . .
When she feels giddy, she'll attack our toes and tickle, tease, and play . . .
She is a nosy little girl and must know all things my kids are into, especially if they are on the floor:
She hangs around the yard and expects to be let in at her pleasure:
And she feels quite entitled to my son's favorite blanket . . . her favorite, too:
She recently took up residence in a houseplant . . . laying her eggs and then sitting on them for almost 3 weeks, her personal best so far in her almost 2 year life. I didn't get a picture as I didn't want to push my luck. I was the only one allowed to approach her or even enter the room, so I didn't feel it was appropriate to intrude on her with a camera. So you will have to imagine the picture of a broody mourning dove all hunkered down in a past-its-prime poinsettia plant in the window of the kids' playroom. I would sprinkle some seed and refill the little medicine-cup water-dish each morning and each night, and she would thank me with a little hum and a nestle. She finally gave up on her nest two days ago, and I am so happy to have her back.
(Though not on my head! . . . which is her favorite perch . . . she knows it drives me buggy . . . teaser that she is.)
I just love that little bird.