Today’s agenda was completely blank so we sat around the Invader relaxing and loafing and worse. We waited until it cooled down from today’s high of about 90 and then went on a walk about the campground. It is a very nice camping place with a couple ponds and a small lake, a big activity center with an indoor hot tub (which they strangely refer to as a “spa”), large expanses of well-trimmed grass, lots of geese and goslings, some ducks with tiny baby ducks, a big variety of other birds along with the normal number of squirrels, chipmunks, some turtles and a few Cessna-sized insects.
As we strolled about, we noted that some of the young birds that were in nests yesterday morning had been evicted by yesterday’s thunderstorms and associated downpours. Peggy took a liking to one particular victim, a dove baby that had moved from his previous quarters to a cozy spot on top of our fire ring grate right outside the Invader. Peggy decided this little gray fluffball was in danger of croaking so she decided to get closer to it to see if she could save this doomed noisemaker from certain death by neglect. It was soon discovered that the chick was not quite as neglected as it might seem because the mother (we think) arrived as Peg was approaching and started a spirited defense of the young one by pecking it’s head. Through this motivational system, the mother was able to drive the chick from our fire grate to the neighbor’s water spigot a bit further from our trailer.
Peggy soon began to fret about the youngster and initiated a lifesaving strategy of chasing it around the campground in a vain attempt to feed the possibly starving chick. This technique had extremely limited success. Next, Peg got on the phone to cruise the net about what dove moms feed little doves and found that they feed them crop milk which further research revealed was regurgitated food. Peggy drew the line at eating bird seed and ralphing it back up for distressed birds so more research revealed that if one is tempted to feed displaced young birds boiled egg, bread and water could be mixed to substitute for bird puke.
Additional research found that, if one was so inclined, the fate of doomed young birds could be arranged such that humans would feel better about complete helplessness regarding soon-to-be-dead tiny birds. Info from the internet indicated that baby birds could be captured and placed in a small box lined with tissue and the bird and box could be placed in a tree and fed by the dove folks. I was engaged to make a couple of small boxes, one for the baby bird and a smaller one for the bird puke substitute.
There was a little problem with the info from the net. They neglected to note that even little baby dove chicks can get around through the mechanism of flight and running, both of them faster than the capabilities of the pursuer. Missus Surrogate Squab made a few daring lunges at the infant bird without success. Fortunately, Mama Dove was able to easily find her wayward chick, probably by following Peggy around our nice campsite. Considerably more head pecking ensued but eventually Ma and Pa Dove resumed feeding their youngster despite his having moved out of the family digs and taken up residence on the absent neighbor’s fire ring grate. Peggy seemed entirely satisfied with the new arrangement with the exception that she believed the little guy would freeze to death at night on the grate, despite it being quite warm at night. Ma and Pa Dove do not seem to be offended by Junior’s new quarters although the they may not think it is quite as spiffy if the absent neighbor returns and lights a fire.