THE MOURNING DOVE 
By T. GILBERT PEARSON 
The National Association of Audubon Societies 
Educational Leaflet No. 2 
Years ago, before the Audubon Society was formed, I frequently 
accompanied a local hunter on his trips afield. My business was to 
retrieve the birds which fell before his double-barreled, muzzle-loading 
shot-gun, and to carry the shot-pouch and powder-horn whenever the 
sportsman found it necessary to advance in a stooping attitude while 
stalking his game. The bird most hunted was the Mourning Dove, and 
many of these feathered beauties fell before his aim. 
Nest and Eggs of Mourning Dove 
Photographed at Deraarest, N. J., by B. S. Bowdish 
Late one summer evening, I recall, we tramped for two or three 
miles through the pine-woods to a pond where we had been told the 
doves came of an evening to drink. Just before sundown they began to 
arrive. After a busy day passed in the woods and 
! fields they came flying in to this small, sequestered ^S^Doves* 00 
body of water to refresh themselves before sleeping. 
My companion never shot birds on the wing — that was too difficult ; 
so, on this occasion, he waited until they had alighted near the pond to 
drink from one of the little puddles where cows had stepped in the mud. 
I remember distinctly that he killed only one Dove that evening. I was 
