Day 36: Mourning Dove

Oh, do I have some stories about Mourning Doves. Growing up in Texas, they were one of the first birds that I grew to recognize and to loathe at the same time. Every spring of my childhood, my mom would grow hanging plants and flowers on our porch. And, every spring, the Mourning Doves would move in to make crappy little nests in the plants. Many a quiet morning was broken by the sound of my mom screaming as she tried to water the hanging plants, doves flying out in her face or pooping on her head.

Later, as I was beginning to drive, Mourning Doves were the "stupid" birds in the road that waited until the last possible second to fly off before they squished under my tires, no matter how much I swerved to avoid them. My deep-seeded resentment of Mourning Doves (and let's be honest, doves in general) lasted until graduate school, when I met Jared and shared my convictions. Ever since then, he's tried to convince me to give doves another chance. I suppose I owe them that much, since I haven't been home to hear my mom's tortured yells in many years.

So, Mourning Doves.You've all seen them, since they live year-round throughout most of the United States. They're generally light grey and brown in color, and are appropriately name for their distinct, mournful sounding call, woo-OO-oo-oo-oo. I also have always associated them with a strange whistling sound that can be heard when they fly off or land (pay attention next time, you'll notice it). I didn't realize until now, but this sound is made by their wings.

Fun fact: The Mourning Dove is the leading gamebird in North America in terms of total harvest and the widespread distribution of hunting effort. Approximately one million hunters annually harvest more than 20 million birds.