When Mourning Doves Get Frisky…

you know spring is close at hand.

I wish I had a picture. Maybe you’re glad I don’t.

So anyway.

Here’s the story.

The usual statuesque mourning doves were all hoppy. Which caught my attention.

I thought to myself, how funny, the normally placid and peaceful, staid and reserved Mourning Doves are a bit flitty and hoppy and bobby.

The one with the other. And then the other with the one.

The male (I suppose) hopped about in a pattern.

And the female (I think) turned her tail to him and bobbed away.

Hmmm. I continued to observe.

Oh my.  Look at those doves.  (Again, I thought to myself, for there was no one to reveal my thoughts to, and more to the point, no one really interested it there was one present to reveal my thoughts) So I thought rather than uttered, those mourning doves are frisky. By golly, I think they’re about to…

Well. Truth be told. It took more time than I had for anything much to progress. Time as a factor, I abandoned my watch.

This is all to say.

The mourning doves were frisky.

Spring must be on the way.


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