Dove Nest

We were treated this spring (May and June) with a mourning dove nest built near the house, rather close to the ground, in a small tree. We first noticed the nest when we walked under the tree and flushed a dove, who noisily flew away. This event occurred a few more times, which caused us to look closer and to spot the nest.

The nest of the mourning dove is a simple, flimsy-looking flat platform. It is not lined with any soft material, as are other birds' nests, nor is it in the shape of a cozy little cup that secures the chicks. It's easy to look right through the nest and miss it, until the bird's repeated fleeing begins to attract your attention. My wife then spotted two white eggs and we knew that we might be in for a treat, as the babies later hatched and then were fed.

Doves are monogamous—at least through one breeding season, and sometimes for subsequent seasons. They can live as long as 20 years in captivity, though their lifespan in the wild is far shorter. They may raise several broods in one season. The male selects the nesting site and carries construction materials to the future mom, who then builds the nest. Unlike other birds, who carefully fashion a nest over several days, the mourning dove seems to have other priorities—since the flimsy nest we saw seems to have been hastily constructed.

The mourning dove broods and tends to the hatchlings longer than most songbirds. The time span from egg laying to fledging may be well over a month, rather than just a few weeks, as for, example, the wren.

Our doves laid their two eggs early in chilly May. The fact that we scared the parent away so often on those cold days had me concerned that the eggs had gotten chilled and the embryos died. Yet, day after day, the parent sat there—less and less inclined to flee, as it became habituated to us. (I learned later that we were probably watching dad brood, since he usually takes the day shift, leaving mom to cover the nights.)

But one day I thought I saw a baby's head peeking out from under the parent. Grabbing my camera and zooming in for a shot, I soon saw the second head pop out from under dad's wing. We doubled up on our nest watching—eager to watch the little ones grow. It's amazing how fast a chick develops from a feeble, downy lump into a bird virtually as large and full-feathered as its parent, in just a week or so.

Doves are strictly vegetarian—its diet consisting of seeds and fruit. They have a large crop in their chest, into which they stuff a capacious amount of seed, which later gets ground into edible mush. After the chicks hatch, the crop-stuffed parent flies to the nest to feed the babies. Whereas most songbirds bring an insect that gets stuffed into a chick's gaping maw, the dove chick jams its head down the throat of its parent, causing it to regurgitate what's called “crop milk,” rich in proteins and fat.

We never saw the feeding activity, but we kept a close watch over the next week or two, noting the chicks grow ever larger—wondering how that flimsy nest could possibly support two big chicks and a parent. Were we seeing a great balancing act, or was the fragile-looking nest far stronger than it appeared? Later research told me that the nest may get used again—maybe even in the next year. I'm beginning to think that momma doves are very savvy structural engineers, who build robust yet delicate nests.

One day in June the chicks fledged. On our morning nest inspection that day all that greeted us was an “empty nest.” For the next couple of days we saw two doves clumsily flee, as we walked near the tree. A little research told me that the fledglings may hang around their nest area for a few days. Now we will eagerly survey the nest, hoping soon to spot a couple more eggs sitting in the minimalist nest, starting another brood.