Carl Naether—When a Mourning Dove Falls in Love 265


WHEN A MOURNING DOVE FALLS IN LOVE


By Carl Naether


A pair of California Mourning Doves were contentedly rearing

their young in a spacious outdoor aviary quite early this spring.

Besides Galapagos, Bronze-wing, and other kinds of foreign Doves

and Pigeons, its population included a single White Dove. A female

it was—rather small, tidy, and gentle. She paid very little attention

to any of the other occupants, all of which were mated. For several

months she lived thus quietly and to herself.


The Mourning Doves were on their second setting of eggs. One

morning early, while the female was still on the nest, I saw her mate,

the heartless philanderer, fly over to where the demure White Dove

was basking in the sunshine. At first she disregarded him entirely,

remaining stock-still. Then the flirt flew to a near by branch, spreading

his tail feathers in view of the silent and wholly undemonstrative

White Dove, and each time folding his wings with particular and

gentle grace. This wooing he repeated half a dozen times. Each

time he alighted on the branch on which his newly found friend was

perched, she would look up slightly startled. Finally, when

Mr. Mourning Dove, whose shameless philanderings were watched

with silent disgust by his wife on the nest, perched dangerously near

the White Dove, she made off to another branch. Apparently that

was just what he had wanted right along, for now he followed her

from branch to branch in dexterous flight, and always with widespread

tail. Just the same, when it came time to do his share of the incubating,

about 10 o’clock, he relieved his mate with faithful regularity, remaining

on the nest until after four o’clock—as any good male Dove should.


In due time the two eggs hatched, so that Mr. Mourning Dove had

less time to indulge in his love affair. His mate in the meantime had

become so jealous that she chased her hated white rival whenever the

latter showed up in the vicinity of the nest. During the next three

weeks, while the young Mourning Doves were rapidly growing, I saw

their father frequently in the company of the White Dove, who by this

time was responding whole-heartedly to his advances.


As soon as the young Mourning Doves knew how to get their own


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