MRS. MOURNING DOVE'S HOUSEKEEPING
Strange as it may seem, there had never been any Mourning Doves in theforest until this year, and when a pair came there to live, the peoplewere much excited. They talked about the Doves' song, so sweet and sad,and about their soft coats of brown and gray, and they wondered verymuch what kind of home they would build. Would it be a swinging pocketof hairs, strings, and down, like that of the Orioles? Would it be stoutand heavy like the nests of the Robins? Or would it be a ball of leavesand grasses on the ground, with a tiny doorway in one side, like that ofthe Ovenbird?
You can see that the forest people were really very much interested inthe Mourning Doves, and so, perhaps, it is not strange that, when thenew couple built their nest in the lower branches of a spruce tree,everybody watched it and talked about it.
"Really," said one of the Blackbirds, who had flown over from the swampnear by, "I never should think of calling that thing a nest! It isnothing but a few twigs and sticks laid together. It is just as flat asa maple-leaf, and what is to keep those poor little Doves from tumblingto the ground I can't see."
"I wouldn't worry about the little Doves yet," said a Warbler. "I don'tthink there will ever be any little Doves in that nest. The eggs willroll off of it long before they are ready to hatch, and the nest willblow to pieces in the first storm we have."
"Well," said the Blackbird, as she started for home, "I shall want toknow how the Mourning Doves get on. If any of you are over my way, stopand tell me the news."
Some days after this, a Quail, passing under the Doves' home, happenedto look up and see two white eggs in the nest. It was so very thin thatshe could see them quite plainly through the openings between the twigs.Later in the day, she spoke of this to a Grouse, saying, "I came by theMourning Doves' nest and saw two white eggs through the bottom."
After she went away, the Grouse said to a wild Rabbit: "The Quail toldme that the Mourning Dove's eggs went right through the bottom of hernest, and I don't wonder. It wasn't strong enough to hold anything."
At sunset, the Rabbit had a short visit with Mrs. Goldfinch, as shepulled a great thistle-head to pieces and made her supper from itsseeds. He told her he had heard that the Mourning Dove's eggs had fallenthrough the bottom of the nest and broken on the ground, and Mrs.Goldfinch said: "Oh, that poor Mrs. Mourning Dove! I must go to see herin the morning." Then she fled home to her own four pearly treasures.
Now, of course the Rabbit was mistaken when he said anybody had told himthat those two eggs were broken; just as much mistaken as the Grouse waswhen she said somebody had told her that the eggs had fallen. They boththought they were right, but they were careless listeners and carelesstalkers, and so each one had changed it a bit in the telling.
The next day it rained, and the next, and the next. Mrs. Goldfinch didnot dare leave her nest to make calls, lest the cold raindrops shouldchill and hurt the four tiny birds that lay curled up in their shells.At last the weather was warm and sunshiny, and Mrs. Goldfinch and someof her bird neighbors went to call on Mrs. Mourning Dove. They found herjust coming from a wheat-field, where she had been to get grain. "Oh,you poor creature!" they cried. "We have heard all about it. Your poorbabies! How sorry we are for you!"
Mrs. Mourning Dove looked from one to another as though she did not knowwhat to make of it. "What do you mean?" she cooed. "My babies are welland doing finely. Won't you come to see them?"
Then it was the turn of the other birds to be surprised. "Why," theychirped, "we heard that your eggs had fallen through your nest and hadbroken and killed the tiny Dove babies inside. Is it true?"
"Not a word of it," answered Mrs. Mourning Dove. "The nest is allright, and the eggs were not broken until my two little darlings brokethem with their sharp beaks."
"Here they are," she added, fondly. "Did you ever see such pretty ones?See him open his bill, the dear! And did you ever see such a neck as shehas? Mr. Mourning Dove thinks there never were such children."
"But do you feel perfectly safe to leave them in that nest?" asked theOriole politely. "My babies are so restless that I should be afraid totrust them in it."
"That is what people always say," answered Mrs. Mourning Dove, with ahappy coo, "and I fear that I am a rather poor housekeeper, but it runsin our family. Mr. Mourning Dove and I have raised many pairs ofchildren, and they never rolled out, or tumbled through, or blew away,and I do not worry about these. I shall never be thrifty like you goodbuilders, perhaps, but I'm sure you cannot love your little ones anymore than I do mine. It was very kind of you to be so sorry for me whenyou heard I was in trouble. I think I have the best neighbors in theworld."
When her callers went away, they could not say enough about Mrs.Mourning Dove's pleasant ways, and her gentle, well-behaved children."It is too bad she is such a poor nest-maker," the Vireo said, "and Iunderstand now what she meant when she told me that they sometimes usedold Robins' nests for their young. She said they flattened them out andadded a few twigs, and that they did finely. I thought it very queer inthem to do so, but perhaps if I had not been a good builder I shouldhave done the same thing."
"Perhaps we all would," the others agreed. "She certainly is a verypleasant bird, and she is bringing up her children well. Mr. MourningDove seems to think her perfect. We won't worry any more about her."