I don't have a green thumb. Really. I once managed to kill a jade plant. So when my mother gave me an herb basket at Easter, I felt guilty in advance for killing the basil and banana peppers. But when a mama bird made a nest in the basket, I shed the shame and cooed over her babies like a doting auntie. They're so ugly, but their raw-skinned, hollow-boned, big-eyed helplessness makes my heart overflow with a desire to nurture them. Of course, I can't touch them, and I don't want to upset their mother, so I took these pictures while standing on a chair in the dining room (thank you, zoom lens). But I've been feeding their mother and listening for trouble on the balcony. I'm ready to chase off any nasty bluejays that dare to mess with my mama bird and her babies!
Last week I kept talking about my dovelings and my dovelets. It all sounded too much like duckling and cutlet. Ducking cutlet?! Noooooo! So I looked up the proper term. A baby dove is called a squab! The word is about as ugly as they are, so it fits. Behold my precious squabs!
To see how they've grown in just a week, do the clicky thing.
|April 30: I realize there is a dove in my herb basket.|
|May 3: BABIES!!! DOVELETS!!! DOVELINGS!!! I fall in love with their prickly fuzziness.|
|May 4: The basil is dead. Long live the basil.|
|May 9: My squabs are pubert-doves! How much longer will they be in the nest? I want to see flying lessons.|
They grow up so fast. Pretty soon they'll be flying around alone at night and bringing cardinals with dubious intentions back to the nest. *sigh*