Pondering the Different Mothering Skills and Personalities of Pigeons

Over the past 1 month we've enjoyed watching three 'families' of pigeon raise their young. There were such differences between the Mama (and Daddy) birds that I've often found myself thinking about them as I had always assumed that a bird was a bird was a bird. Especially where pigeons are concerned.

The first was in a tree near the front gate right outside my window where I used to sit at the desk in the morning and write. I watched her tending the eggs, sitting quietly in the tree, watching the world go by. I watched her tending the little pigeons as their heads would poke out of the top of the nest and would peek over to catch a glimpse of them when I was outside. They were quiet and hidden and most people would never know they were there even though you walk within 5 feet of them to approach our building. The mother bird would sit quietly in her nest and 'people watch'. She would sit still, not make a peep but would watch you with her eyes, never letting you out of her sight. Even if we were mowing in and out or just peeking in at her and her babies, she would sit and warily look at you but she was calm and secure.

The second group was in a very small tree near the back gate. My room mate mentioned there was a nest in it one day. I never would have known as it was such a small sapling that although it had a lot of green leaves, it seemed a bad choice for a birds home. This Mama and Daddy bird couple were psycho. She was great at going to find food for her babies but she was loud and obnoxious. She and her partner would scream and swoop at you if you were even 15 feet away from the nest. She spent little time actually 'in' the nest, but often was on the fence about 10 feet away or on a roof top or the bar of a swing set in the neighbors yard. She was a screamer. She was nervous. She was angry and loud. Her bad choice of nesting was proved when the babies were blown out of the nest not once, not twice, but three times after small thunderstorms moved through the area. Someone rescued them and put them back for her as two of the three babies were tiny and newborn and little more than sacks of skin and fuzz. She never sat still for long, was always hopping, flying, and 'talking'. We couldn't even go outside near the tree (20-30 feet away without her getting angry!) I swear she just wouldn't shut up and she never wanted to sit on her nest like I'd seen other Mama birds do.

The first pigeon, in the front went on to raise a second batch of babies, again in her quiet manner. I had no idea she even had a second little family until I happened to glance out and saw her sitting in her nest again and soon, new little heads were peeking over the edge. What a quiet, confident and skilled mother she was and I didn't notice a 'daddy' helping her like the family of pigeons in the back yard had.

I had no idea pigeons had such different personalities and mothering skills!

What a stark contrast between the calm, confident mama pigeon in the front yard and the squawking, loud, irritating mama pigeon in the backyard. Admittedly the Mama bird in the front became my favorite and I was sick and tired of the bird in the back who just wouldn't calm down and stop screaming all the time.

I've found it interesting to watch. To ponder. To smile at and shake my head.

The similarities to human mothers was not lost on me.

Let's Redo Sunday Instead of Starting Monday, K?

It's almost Monday... but I'm not ready for it.

As stressful as the weekends can be with their own basket of problems, stressful issues and things breaking down, there is a level of cowardliness in coping when you know some of the 'must do' items on your list can't be done on Sundays when the specialty stores and many businesses are closed.

Once Monday arrives, it hits you smack in the face.

I started to write down everything I have to remember to do, get, go, call about, schedule, look for and finish... My mouth dropped open and I sighed. I sat there gobsmacked.

My list of "To Do" over the next 3 days is so overwhelming that today I am putting it into an excel spreadsheet to prioritize, organize and keep track of what is done and what still needs to be done.

Remember My Ghostie Stories? Some of You Might.

Years ago, before the long hiatus, I used to talk (sometimes) about the weird things that go on. If any of my readers from 'back then' are still around you'll know what I'm talking about.

I do have to say that for the first time in my stay in this city, this house has convinced my friend that there is more to this world than just us humans. You never really understand nor believe until you start living some of the strange things yourself and see them yourself. But even so, I can't say I'd believe other people's stories 95% of the time either! But here in our home, things happen often enough that it's just become a way of life. We always (always!) strive to debunk things and find a theory that 'could' have caused the action but when you've exhausted all explanations you are left with... something unexplainable.

While I take it all in stride, say 'hmph', smile or just shrug my shoulders and go on, my friends are still quite shocked and bothered by the strange things that go on. They haven’t gotten nonchalant about it as I have. So you have to picture their face and hear the shock and awe in his voice when I tell any of these stories!

Anyway! This isn't a big deal - but it made me laugh so I thought I'd share.

Yesterday my roommate was making 2 sandwiches for dinner. I had been talking to him but as he got about half way done with his sandwich making I left the kitchen to sit in the living room with the laptop. About 5 minutes later he stood in the doorway with a strange look on his face.

"Did you come in the kitchen?" he asked.

"No. Why?" But the look on his face and the sound of his voice made me laugh... I knew 'something' had happened.

Apparently he finished making his sandwiches; putting 3 olives under the chicken on one sandwich but deciding not to put any olives on his second sandwich so he put them away. He topped both sandwiches with the 'lid' and then turned to the sink, washed off the butter knife, placed it in the sink and turned around to his plate on the counter.

There was one whole, green olive on top of one of his sandwiches. Carefully placed with the little red pimento side up, it was placed in the middle of the circle - on the sandwich that he had not wanted any olives on.

He was confused so he opened his first sandwich and counted; 1, 2, 3. All three olives were there, tucked under the chicken where he put them. So where did this 4th olive come from, and how did it end up on top of his 2nd sandwich after he had placed the top buns on them, pressed them down gently and turned to the sink?

He was rather upset and confused and uncomfortable.

I just laughed.

I told him just yesterday I was thinking that our ghost had been quiet for a while and I wondered what was up.

He lifted the olive and tucked it in his sandwich under the chicken. He bent his head to take a bite.

"You're going to eat an olive that a ghost touched!?" I asked.

He stopped, glanced at his sandwich and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I am."