It rained all night and all day, so the forest is sodden. The poor doves! A white bird in the rain and dirt of a soaking-wet forest is not going to look its best, so it was a bedraggled and muddy flock that greeted me when I went out this morning. Then most of them huddled on our porch all day or crept under the floor of the building to try and keep dry. It was no day to be 25 metres up in a tree under a dripping epiphyte.
But the female that I have dubbed Mrs Housekeeper because she scoots inside whenever she gets the slightest opportunity, or can make one, managed shortly after midday to elude my attempts to stop her. I closed the door to keep the rest out, and she spent a while 'doing the housework' round our office, exploring and foraging everywhere, including under my desk, pecking up whatever little bits I dropped for her, or that her sharp eyes could find of what I might have dropped in fetching food for her companions earlier. She was quite happy, despite the closed door.
I went on with my work, to the accompaniment of the occasional coo under the floor from the birds sheltering there. Then a loud coo close to my chair caught my attention. I looked down and Mrs Housekeeper was looking up at me. 'Coo!' she said again.
'Oh, you want to go out?'
'Coo!'
So I went to the door, she did too, I opened it, and out she went.
Dove, I find, is a very easy language to learn. The vocabulary is one word, the only variation is in tone. It can be pleading, contented, disappointed, angry, etc. But the message is always very clear. Doves tell it like it is.
Later in the afternoon I opened the office door again because I needed to go outside briefly for something, and of course Mrs Housekeeper was inside in a flash. Other doves flew at me, wet and muddy, so I had my hands and feet occupied cutting them off gently, and could do nothing to stop her or get her out. I did not want to leave her inside by herself, and she refused to be tempted out of my cosy office by food, so in the end I had to pick her up and carry her out.
But, nothing daunted, when I came back to the door a few minutes later she tried everything to scoot past me. This time it was me that won. So the scores are even. At the moment...
But the female that I have dubbed Mrs Housekeeper because she scoots inside whenever she gets the slightest opportunity, or can make one, managed shortly after midday to elude my attempts to stop her. I closed the door to keep the rest out, and she spent a while 'doing the housework' round our office, exploring and foraging everywhere, including under my desk, pecking up whatever little bits I dropped for her, or that her sharp eyes could find of what I might have dropped in fetching food for her companions earlier. She was quite happy, despite the closed door.
I went on with my work, to the accompaniment of the occasional coo under the floor from the birds sheltering there. Then a loud coo close to my chair caught my attention. I looked down and Mrs Housekeeper was looking up at me. 'Coo!' she said again.
'Oh, you want to go out?'
'Coo!'
So I went to the door, she did too, I opened it, and out she went.
Dove, I find, is a very easy language to learn. The vocabulary is one word, the only variation is in tone. It can be pleading, contented, disappointed, angry, etc. But the message is always very clear. Doves tell it like it is.
Later in the afternoon I opened the office door again because I needed to go outside briefly for something, and of course Mrs Housekeeper was inside in a flash. Other doves flew at me, wet and muddy, so I had my hands and feet occupied cutting them off gently, and could do nothing to stop her or get her out. I did not want to leave her inside by herself, and she refused to be tempted out of my cosy office by food, so in the end I had to pick her up and carry her out.
But, nothing daunted, when I came back to the door a few minutes later she tried everything to scoot past me. This time it was me that won. So the scores are even. At the moment...
