Well, the dove is back along with most of her kids from last year. And while I love the dove, I don’t love what comes out the rear end, if you know what I mean. And she doesn’t deposit in the pot that houses her nest either. It hits my patio or my patio furniture on a daily basis. Besides, I thought that possibly we’d be moving this year and didn’t want to leave her in the middle of the summer with no pot to nest in.
So, trying not to mess too much with mother nature, I decided that I’d move the pot that she’d used for the past two years, take the old dead plant out of it that is quite an eyesore, and pot a new plant that smells gooooooood. With that in mind, I moved the pot from the top of my outdoor hutch to the ground beside the door and potted a great smell good that looks like a violet type plant called Opal Innocence, I think. I did so well that I didn’t leave anything on the top of the stand to allow her a place to nest.
That’s when the problem began. Have you ever seen an angry dove mother with eggs waiting to be layed who doesn’t mind loading on the guilt? She must have a Cancer moon, sun or ascendant. To add to it, Claude started getting testy. There’s something about a Cancer man with his momma complex. Then along comes another Cancer male friend, James, and he added to the guilt by mentioning that the dove of peace trusted me enough to build her nest right next to my door….come on…now I’m feeling my shoulders collapsing.
You see. I worry about even watering the plants when she’s on the nest. What if I got the babies wet?
She even decided that she’d try to nest in one of my two rose bush planters. That’s another story. I just put them outside after getting them from my friend, David, for Christmas. I believe he only got it for me so he could lay on the guilt by mentioning that when he brings me a flower, they tend to exit this world quickly. Well, I do communicate with the other side, after all but I don’t mean for the jungle I have in my home to leave earthly bounds right after I get them. I want them to live a long prosperous life. To my amazement, the roses came back, right after potting. Little leaves appeared from what appeared to be a dead mass. So, I couldn’t let the dove have either of those pots and I protected them by moving them too. David will be proud….they’re alive!!!
With the dove giving me alternately dirty looks and then questioning why I’d do her that way and Claude, not to mention James, adding to the angst I already have, I gave up. I put my big perennial coneflower planter up on the tope of the hutch so that she can nestle gently among it’s growing, I hope, branches when it emerges. When I went out this morning, she was bringing in grasses to make a nest again. Did I see that little supposedly peaceful dove mother huff at me as she hovered inches from my face?