Spring has finally made its way to Virginia.  And, not only does a man’s thoughts turn to love during this season, but a woman’s, too. The warmer weather has me waxing poetic about all kinds of romantic things. All we have to do it take a look in our backyards to the birds to find evidence that nature is right with us, too.

Husband and I were gifted a bird feeder for a wedding present from our friend Gretchen. And, we have found the various birds who visit us regularly now are quite romantic. The Mourning Doves are some of my favorites (also known as Western Turtle Doves).

Soft gray, always having a pleasant look on their “face,” making big round cooing sounds, and apparently prolific breeders, these particular birds amuse me for all kinds of reasons. For one, they are, well, how shall I put this? a tad zaftig.

If there are eating disorders in the bird kingdom, our mourning doves don’t seem to be bothered. The dove’s roundness dwarfs the other birds – the petit house wrens, the delicate sparrows, and the even the bully blue jays. But, regardless, they are quite social and clearly aren’t feeling the peer pressure. They will come flying in, like a bull in a china shop, booting off the other birds from our bird feeder, unselfconsciously, and look around like, What? Did I do that? 

They also travel in pairs. They appear quite loyal to one another.

First, the doves come in for a birdfeeder landing together. If they didn’t, the bird feeder would swing like an amusement park ride, leaving one mourning dove hanging on for dear life until it came to a standstill. As I mentioned they are quite stout.

So, they alight, one on each side, for maximum balancing. They wait until the bird feeder, now gently swaying under their weight, comes to a stop and then they start the business at hand. Eating.

These birds will eat themselves into a food coma. They chow down on bird seed until they plop, beak first, into the pile of empty seed shells on the little bird feeder shelf. Their little fluffy feathers billowing out over the tray. They will snooze for about 15 minutes like that (I’ve timed them), which has to be an eternity in bird years.

They stick together after feasting, too. One will not take off until the other emerges from their seed stupor. They then fly off together, quite quickly for such plumpness, probably on to their next feeding stop.

Amazed by this loyalty, I did a little research. Did you know a whopping 95 percent of birds are at least socially monogamous (even if just for a season)?

Having gotten married later in life – and very unlike the bird world — I visited quite a few feeders before I committed.  No, we humans have to learn to be together. But, the birds? They seem to just know what’s gonna work. None of the “is he my soulmate?” stuff. They just go for whoever can balance out the bird feeder best. Ah, the simple life. Somedays, I wonder. Who is ultimately happier?