Late yesterday afternoon the wind began to pick up. The lame nest that the dopey mourning dove built on the grape arbor crumbled to pieces. Her two babies were down on the gravel floor of the garden and she was cuddling close to them. This was hopeless. They were all doomed to be cat food as soon as the sun set if not sooner. I told myself to not interfere. This was the way Darwin had explained it. Right? This dopey mom with no nest building skills was destined to be eliminated. I went inside for approximately 1/2 hour checking on the situation about every 5 minutes. It was getting dark and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went out to see what I could do to keep the babies out of harms way rather than experience a night of terror.
Everyone was gone. There was no sign of a struggle. No feathers. No blood. A quick search of the garden found the 2 babies huddled together on the other side of the corn patch with mama sitting on the fence above them. I gave her a few choice names then went to the shed to get the ladder and an old basket. Mama flew away. Tramp. I quickly gathered the babies and put them in the basket. They were returned to the grape arbor not far from their dilapidated nest. Guess who was up on the arbor safe and sound? That’s right. Mama. Tramp. I tucked the basket amongst the vines and hoped it would be secure.
The wind really picked up in the night and brought rain down here in the valley and snow up in the mountains. It is nice a brisk today. I’m pleased to report that Mama and babies (now named Tisket and Tasket) are resting comfortably in their new nest.
There is someone in Darwin’s plan that is not happy that I interfered with Nature’s Plan. I’m the FEMA of the garden.
Sorry Pumpkin. Let them fatten up a bit more. You’ll thank me then.