We were sitting in the living room enjoying a quiet afternoon when a loud crashing sound startled us. I thought it came from outside, while Michael thought something had fallen inside. I walked the front deck and found nothing out-of-place. I wondered if a bird might have flown into one of the upstairs windows. Before I went upstairs to check, I opened the back door. A beautiful mourning dove laid silent on the ground after apparently flying straight into the glass door.
“A graceful, slender-tailed, small-headed dove that’s common across the continent. Their soft, drawn-out calls sound like laments. When taking off, their wings make a sharp whistling or whinnying. Mourning Doves fly fast on powerful wingbeats, sometimes making sudden ascents, descents, and dodges, their pointed tails stretching behind them. Mourning Doves perch on telephone wires and forage for seeds on the ground; their flight is fast and bullet straight.”
RIP little dove.
