Out of my menagerie, it seems there isn’t a more appropriate critter to highlight Easter weekend than the one who mimics those bags in the candy aisle: my diamond dove.
She’s a shy thing without a mate, but this time of year lays a couple of eggs every so often. And yep, they’re exactly the size of Dove Eggs. Except I have to wait until she’s done sitting on the unfertilized eggs and then throw them out so a) they don’t go bad, and b) she doesn’t starve herself by waiting for that hatch date. (I can put a fresh sprig of millet, which is like Bird Crack, right in front of her when she’s in incubation mode, and she won’t be distracted.)
This little dove came into my life back in 2008. I’d always held a bit of a prejudice against birds as pets, writing them off as noisy and pecking. I now love conures and cockatiels and all in between, but there was something about the diamond dove. They’re very contemplative, sweet and gentle. The first time she cooed, though, it took me by surprise because it sounded like a train whistle. I’ve since learned that the five-note and two-note coos, along with a special guttural one, have different meanings; trying to talk to me when she can’t see me, when I walk to another room, when I’m right there, etc. And I respond, and we coo back and forth.