DOVES 5 
of one week, with ruffled feathers looking like a barn- 
door fowl about to die. Not content with this, it swore 
at every one who went near it. 
Those who really believe that doves are incapable of 
anger should make a point of seeing a couple of them 
mobbing a tree-pie that has just breakfasted off their 
eggs. Let me not be mistaken. I am not finding fault 
with the doves. I hold that their anger is perfectly 
justified under such circumstances. 
The biblical doctrine of turning the unsmitten cheek 
to the smiter does not apply to them. Since, however, 
they act just as any other little bird would do under 
similar circumstances, it is obviously incorrect to speak 
of them alone as “free from anger.” It gives one an 
altogether false idea of the character of the dove. That 
worthy bird is ever ready to take the law into its own 
hands, Then, again, I have never been able to discover 
any piety about the dove. Complacency it undoubtedly 
possesses, the complacency of the self-made man. But 
this surely is not piety! 
“How,” remarks Phil Robinson, who goes to the 
opposite extreme and is very severe on doves, “if the 
doves could read English poetry, would they put their 
tongues in their cheeks and wink at each other, and 
how the worse conditioned of them would explode with 
laughter!” He maintains that doves have acquired 
their spurious reputation for saintliness because they 
make such a fuss, such an amount of cooing over their 
love affairs. To this must, I think, be added the general 
butter-will-not-melt-in-my-mouth appearance of the 
bird. A dove looks so defenceless; but it cannot be 
