My little flock was happy during May. Sickly baby Francis was now a healthy juvenile, just smaller than Iona. John and Lily were a contented bonded pair. They had reared their babies successfully, and were now thinking of doing it again. Francis tended to stay near John and Lily during days spent on the nearby roof. Iona often would perch away from the others in nearby trees. From the size of her, I think she might be a he, but I do not know her true sex or that of Francis, even now.
Doves courtship pattern is very endearing. The male shows off in front of the female - pacing round and round in circles in front off her, his crop distended with air, lowering his head, fanning his tail. He looks like he is bowing to her. They start billing which is like kissing, and then, if he's lucky, she crouches down and allows herself to be mated (known as the cloacal kiss). The male chooses the nest, and once he has decided you will see the pair of them snuggled up together inside, which looks incredibly cute. Their cooing is very soft and peaceful; but penetrating - I can hear it in the house sometimes.
Once the nest is chosen, both doves will start to bring material to the box. I have a certain amount of hay in the boxes anyway, but they will search and find twigs, pineneedles etc and bring them back; sometimes flying up with such a long bit in their beak that they can't get through the entrance!
The nest is made and the cock becomes very attentive to the hen, following her everywhere and giving her no peace if she doesn't become attached to the chosen site, and start laying! Doves (pigeons) lay two white eggs, hence the expression 'pigeon pair' I suppose. The parents take turns to sit and incubation is about 17/18 days. The male sits during the day, the female at night,but she does the hatching.
During this time we often counted up to 13 doves on the roof, including our four. A pretty dove I called Clementine was often there. I recognised her easily, as she had black on her wings, and a black 'tear-drop' on her cheek. Her mate we called Claudius. Unfortunately we don't seem to see that particular pair any more.
After a while, Iona, strong, white and free-spirited stopped sleeping the nights in the dovecote and flew off with the feral (or someone else's) doves. Little Francis continued to stay close to home and slept the nights in the dovecote as usual. He had 'bagged' the nest box where he was hatched, and seemed very comfortable in it. This is the 'best' nest box - where he and Iona were hatched, and Lily and Columba before them.
At the end of May the new babies were hatched (in the second best nestbox!) and again I was very happy. I blogged about it at the time (Wed. 30th May blog) and how I took a quick photo of the inside of the nest box. The babies were a couple of days old. That photo is shown above. Unfortunately, and for no reason we could discover, those babies died at 2-4 days old. I blamed myself for taking the photo and disturbing the nest, although I didn't touch it of course. I realised that the babies had died when neither parent was going to the nest box. I'm often in the garden and I watch the doves then and I can see the dovecote from my armchair and also from the kitchen window, so I am very much aware of what they are up to.
Of course I decided I would have to check and find out for sure. It was terribly sad; they were tiny little things. Hub3 kindly cleaned them out for me. Maybe there was something wrong with them although they looked ok. Maybe it was my fault. I swore I would never do such a thing again. That was a bad night. The nest had been cleaned out, and there was nothing inside. Poor Lily spent a long time peering inside, then all the doves flew away, and for the very first time since I'd had the doves not a single dove spent the night in the dovecote. It was awful. Even at night I see their little faces peeking out of the windows. The dovecote was forlorn. It was a night of mourning.
I can't explain how I feel about the doves. I love my dog, Yorkie (not his real name) tremendously, and would be truly devastated if he died, despite him being a naughty pickle who wees on the floor if not watched! I am also very attached to 'my' doves. John is the only one left of the original four and he is 'mine' as are any that are born in my dovecote. I care about the visitors too, but am not as concerned about them. The visitors' numbers have crept up and up. There have been as many as 43, and they cost me quite a lot in feed, considering only four are 'mine'! Cee, my eldest daughter, said she wished I didn't get so unhappy when something happened to any of my doves. Why do you have to name them, she asked. Why can't they be just pretty, fluttering things in the garden? Well, my darling, they can't. They are living creatures and I care about their welfare. I don't want anything to die in my garden; even a dead butterfly causes a pang.
John and Lily came back with the other doves the next day, and seemed to understand that the babies were no more.They have both since spent every night at the dovecote, but Francis has joined Iona and is part of the bigger flock now. Immediately John and Lily started the courtship ritual again, and soon were sitting on more eggs. Purplecooers who were reading my blog at the time know what happened. The new babies were christened 'The Ugly Dovelings' by my husband. They hatched successfully, but only lived for just over two weeks, and it was even worse........
The photos show The Ugly Dovelings aged about 2 weeks, John, Lily and baby Francis, playing happy families and the first tiny babies before they died.
To be continued.... I'm nearly up to date, but next blog will say something about our visiting doves, and how my doves are now.