368 The Mourning Dove 



object of his affections his own cute version of 

 that same old lie which has made all sorts of 

 doves perform all sorts of foolish capers ever since 

 the original lover hammered his sentiments on a 

 chunk of rock and left it where his barefooted lady 

 could strike it and get stone-bruise or heart-bruise 

 as the case happened to pan out. 



The nest of the dove is one of the crudest 

 examples of bird architecture that can well be 

 imagined. It consists of a few twigs, carelessly 

 arranged, and so loose in structure that the two 

 white eggs are easily visible through the bottom 

 of the affair. In the plains country, the nest is 

 placed upon the ground, but in the forested 

 regions, some low, flat branch bears the burden. 

 A fir tree in some park or garden is a favorite 

 site, presumably because one of its flat branches 

 requires fewer sticks to serve the purpose of keep- 

 ing the eggs together, and where the birds can 

 warm them for the necessary time. Yet, with all 

 their carelessness about the building of the house, 

 the doves are devoted parents, the female fre- 

 quently feigning lameness to the risk of capture 

 while endeavoring to draw a too prying investi- 

 gator away from her helpless squabs. The young 

 are fed, like young domestic pigeons, on softened 

 food regurgitated from the parent's crop. Like 

 the domestic pigeon, too, the dove is a great 

 drinker, thrusting the bill into the water and 



