I’m nothing if not imaginative with my titles.
Let’s begin with the Dove (the bird, not the soap products) . . .
The last time I’ve had dealings with doves was in Colorado; they used to nest in my Blue Spruce . . . which needed to be sprayed every year so it wouldn’t get eaten by various insects.
The company who did the spraying wouldn’t spray a tree with an active nest in it and I wouldn’t get rid of an active nest so the spraying would often get delayed and the tree occasionally suffered.
After the one egg hatched, I would get serious about dissuading the doves from going at it again and especially dissuading them from nesting in the Spruce.
BTW, forgive the messy landscaping. I’ve not gotten around to cleaning last year’s leaves from the place (a chore thoughtfully left by the previous owners).
Where was I? . . . oh, yes. Dissuading doves from going reproducing on my property. As with any such effort, it starts with a rubber. Band, that is.
For them who don’t know it, I’m fairly accurate when it comes to shooting rubber bands at significant distances. Basically, I put said marksmanship was put to good use by breaking up doves pairs who even looked as if they had a glint in their eyes.
Of course, my yard wasn’t the only playground for these feisty feathered fiends. My backup option was to keep them from putting together two sticks for a nest.
For them not familiar with dove nests, they are very sparse as far as nests go; about three sticks haphazardly stuck on the crook of a branch. What these nests lack in structural integrity and aesthetic appeal they make up by being very quick to put up.
That means one had to be vigilant and ruthless in destroying nascent nest efforts (two sticks in the proximity of a tree or ledge).
As focused as I was, about every other year, the tree wouldn’t get sprayed.
Why bring this up? Because I had doves nesting inside one of my gutters under an overhang above the front steps.
Mind you, I was reasonably tolerant of the fact until the parents and two offspring started decorating my front steps with dove d0o-doo. They then had to go. I mean, they were already going and I wanted them to go elsewhere (figuratively and literally).
These photos are of one of the parents after I chased away the other parent and the two fledglings.
It did this weird head thing with its head as if it was challenging me (for a moment I thought it was an Italian dove).
The title of the video refers to the fact it’s in a playlist containing a couple of Osprey videos for my next post.
Anyway, it glared at me for a bit, winked at me, and left. I wasn’t flattered for I knew what that wink meant; I’d won this round, but they would be back.
. . . but I have tricks of my own . . . I got me some gutter guards and itching powder. I kid about the itching powder but I wish I had some. I figure spreading some on the nest would keep the birds from properly incubating the egg(s).
. . . plus I bought a new bag of rubber bands.
After it left, I snapped a photo of the container Hosta in the rock bed.
What’s a container Hosta, you ask? It’s a Hosta planted along with its original container thus keeping it contained to a small area. I have a number of them in my rock bed.
It’s a cruel practice designed to — as I said — control the spread of the plants. I aim to free them (if they’re not already root-bound) and split them. I have a number of places already picked out for the separated portions.
I mentioned rock beds . . .
There are lots of interesting rocks (do you see the Moray Eel? It could also be a dolphin) and many rocks will be subjects in future macro shoots. Meanwhile here’s another shot with what looks like a fake (artificial) flower.
All in all — and with relative ease — I’m sliding back into to being a homeowner and facing all the associated chores. I have some decorative grass to trim, a flowerbed to clean, a Woodford Model 17 outdoor faucet to fix, and this and that little things that need addressing.
What I’m not doing much of is relaxing.
. . . hence this post . . . for me, a form of relaxation.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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