This Odd Nest

Bill and Coo, the Mourning Dove pair who could be our potential new tenants, seem to be earnestly trying out our front window box. The performance could be called “This Odd Nest” echoing the TV show “This Old House.” I think they could use a little help from birdman builders who could wing their way to this planet through a wormhole connected to an alternate universe.

Maybe a reader poll would work for this.

They’re definitely an odd couple. Coo seems fairly at home in the artificial foliage, but Bill picks his way across the synthetic sprigs in a clownish, stumbling dance which looks like it hurts his feet. It reminds me of Thurber’s short story, “Bateman Comes Home” in which Old Nate Birge limps around in agony, uttering “…many a painful gahdam.”

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This whole show started after a tree limb trimming last year led to the fall of their nest in the back yard and the loss of a mysterious blue egg. Mourning Dove eggs are white, usually two to a clutch. Cowbirds parasitize Mourning Dove nests but I’ve read that this is rare. And a Cowbird’s egg is not blue but off white with brown speckles.

I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s some kind of X-File involving an alien-avian hybrid in a complicated plot to which the Smoking Man makes a lot of mystifying allusions to God knows what through a haze from endless cigarettes until, in a spectacular blinding flash, he instantly transforms into a pack of Morleys.

Coo obviously makes almost all of the decisions about home selection while Bill stumbles along after her, which seems to illustrate a well-conserved evolutionary principle.

I hear them before I see them, although it’s usually Bill who does the cooing, illustrating yet another truism, which is that men do a lot of talking but do very little work. Obviously neither one are eager to do any actual home construction, instead depending on luck. Mourning Doves are not careful nest builders and the end result often looks haphazard and flimsy.

Anyway, the window box contents will be replaced by real flowers when it warms up. Then what? I’m not sure what will happen. Even if they return after the window box is filled with real foliage, they’re likely to suffer an occasional deluge from the garden hose, which is more like Noah’s flood than a gentle rain.

You’re really not supposed to move a Mourning Dove nest once the eggs are laid. The parents will always abandon it, which is why one expert advises against it and says “use common sense.”

I think the Urban Dictionary defines “common sense” as “What I think you should know.” What would be the common sense thing to do here?