On a cold night in December 2002, in Lompoc, my wife found a bird on our doorstep. It was clearly badly injured. Neither of us had ever had a bird before, neither of us knew anything about caring for birds, but we took this one in, and did what we could for her. I contacted an acquaintance, who was an expert o9n birdwatching (and, in fact, wrote a regular column on the subject for the local newspaper), and sent her a picture of the birds. She identified it as a
“Ringed Turtle-Dove”, and stated,
“There really aren't very many of these guys out in the wild anymore, so this one could be an escapee from an aviary.”
Considering how bad her condition appeared to be when we found her, this bird recovered amazingly well, and was with my wife and I as a pet for almost seventeen years.
We initially assumed the bird to be male, and had named it
“Avery”. A few years later, when
“he” began laying eggs, we renamed her
“Ava”.
She passed away in October of 2019, five weeks after I broke my leg.
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By this time, of course, we were used to having a dove in the home, and it really seemed that there was something missing when we didn't.
The local Board Shop was less-well supplied with Doves, that they usually had been when I wasn't in the market for one, and it took almost a year for them to get one for me. I guess that's on of the businesses that was hit hard by the #CoronaHoax2020.
They did eventually come through, in September 2020, with a white dove, who we have named Misty.
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