Mourning

Mourning II

Wow... it's been a month since I lasted posted anything here. Perhaps it's time to start using flickr as my point of entry for the blog, posting a photo a day.

It's not a particularly happy occasion that brings me to post today... For the past couple of weeks, I have been fairly wrapped in a euphoria of watching mourning doves nesting on top of the air conditioner just outside my living room.

I spotted the bird one morning on my return from the grocery store, and when I got a bit closer to investigate, found that there were two eggs in the nest. Eureka!

In the two weeks now since the discovery, I have been documenting — for all of the flickr world to see — the daily adventures of the mourning doves.

Of course, not much happened from day to day, except that the adult (or adults — it was somewhat difficult to tell the male from the female) would allow me to get closer and closer with my camera.

At first, I would set the ten-second self-timer, focus on something approximately the same distance away as the bird, position the camera and wait for the timer to count down. Eventually, the bird would allow me to actually place the camera on top of the air conditioner, which allowed me to get to within four or so inches from her/him.

I shared the photos with flickr (and the world) and each picture increased the excitement for me and those that were looking in.

I gave myself a scare last week when I returned from a trip to Midland, Michigan... I took a walk out on the balcony and from a distance took a look to see if anything was going on. It didn't appear that much was... just the bird sitting on the nest. But as I stood on the chair to raise myself above the top of the air conditioner for my daily shot, the bird flew off and one of the eggs flew out of the nest and landed on the balcony.

I was shook. I got down and walked into the house, pacing in fear that I'd killed one of the soon-to-be hatchlings. Knowing that I would have to document my crime for the world to see, I went back to the balcony and bent down to photograph the carnage, but what I saw was an empty shell, with traces of membrane on the inside surface of the shell. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I recognized what that meant.

The adult dove hadn't returned to the nest yet, so I climbed up once more to see the two hatchlings lying in the bottom of the nest. I quickly took a few photographs and got down so as encourage the adult to return promptly to its place in the nest.

Since that day, I've not bothered the birds all that much, except that I did manage to grab a shot last week of only one hatchling. I don't know what would have or could have happened to the other baby. I looked around on the ground for clues but found nothing. One of the birds engaged in some kind of fight with two other mounring doves last week... I wouldn't know if the events are related.

This past weekend, the weather turned cold again — a couple of days of mid- to low-30s (F) conditions — so I left the birds alone so that they would be able to properly care for the sole developing baby.

Today, I took a look out on the balcony at the mourning doves... and saw the adults sitting together at the edge of the air conditioner. I was hopeful that it was a sign that the young bird was bigger and stronger.

One of the adults flew away, so I slowly ascended onto the chair to take a closer look. As I raised up above the air conditioner, I saw that the brief return to winter this weekend must have been too much for the baby. It lie lifeless and sprawled along one edge of the nest.

Then, the adult that had remained walked closer to the nest where the remains of the baby lie. There was something touching about that... it made me think that I was being told to respect what had happened... that the adults were indeed in mourning.