Nesting doves entertain more than television
IN the art of nidification, that’s nest building to you and me, one needs perseverance and ingenuity - and sometimes both attributes to the ‘enth degree.
Take the blue tit which nested in a bullet hole left by a Kalashnikov on a wall in Salford (100 per cent true), or think about the dipper at Crowden who sometimes fights against rising water as he, or she, attempts to hang their basket nest under a footbridge.
However, while the two above examples are worthy of this piece, my current favourite act of nidification has taken place right outside the window of the Laughing Badger Gallery; and before I continue, please remember to use the word nidification whenever you can, as it can very useful - sometimes in pub quizzes. Its roots are in medieval Latin: nidification - nidificatio, from Latin nidificare to build a nest, from nidus meaning nest. Are you keeping up?
Three weeks ago I spotted a pair of collared doves prospecting my hanging baskets, and although at first I assumed they were just picking about in last year’s undergrowth, I soon realised what was going on. The female tried each of four baskets in turn, and I could follow her antics from the gallery, the dining room and the living room - and believe me, she was much more interesting that what was on the TV.
All went well on each basket, and all that remained was to select which one to mate in and lay her eggs, and this is when the problems began.
The male was watching with interest from a nearby telegraph pole and seemed to be waiting patiently for his partner to settle down. Unfortunately for the romantic critter his extra weight, and any attempt to perform the act, caused the basket to swing and his ardour was soon cooled as he flew off once more to a safe distance.
The female would then move to the next basket and so on, and it was only after trying each basket several times they were eventually successful. I was tempted to break out the champagne and drag out all the neighbours but, with rain and wind predicted, prospects seemed bleak. However, readers will be pleased to know that the female is now sitting on eggs and, so far, so good.
Man City fans please close your eyes because the collared dove obviously supports your biggest rivals, and if you don’t believe me just listen to its call... “u-nited”. Seriously, have a listen and you’ll never get it out of your head. Sorry.
The collared dove feeds mainly on cereal grain and small seeds on the ground, but will also eat berries in the autumn and, more rarely, caterpillars and aphids in the spring.
In the garden they will occasionally feed on small bird seed or bread crumbs placed on either the ground or the bird table, but are increasingly managing to feed from hanging bird feeders, especially if seed trays are fitted.
The nestlings are fed on “crop milk”, which is rich in protein and fat, and is secreted from the crop.
The collared dove’s nest is normally a flimsy platform of twigs in a tree, but sometimes on a building. The white oval eggs are smooth and glossy, and about 31 mm by 23 mm in size. Both parents share the duty of incubating the eggs and feeding the nestlings.