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Peering at Pigeon Progeny


My sewing room is like a tree house, occupying the second story’s sun-room. I love looking out at the crepe myrtles, the occasional squirrel that goes flying from branch to branch, the doings of the neighborhood–the people that run the stop sign, the young mother who takes a walk with her baby in a stroller, a young girl who is out walking for exercise with ear-buds in her ears, an old white bearded black man who searches for aluminum cans–well, you can tell I like to spend a lot of time in there.

But today, I spied a mother pigeon sitting on her nest and feeding her babies. The nest isn’t much more than a few twigs on a gnarly spot of the crepe myrtle but there she sits, patiently feeding her babies with the branch swaying in the breeze.

PawPrints: Toby has decided that she would like to go back to being crated for the evening. She had rejected this as a bedtime ritual some months ago, but now that Dora is crated–not being totally housebroken, Toby feels a bit left-out.

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