Crashing Birds

Much as I would simply love to report that "Crashing Birds" is a fabulous new heavy metal rock band, such is not the case. Between our enclosed veranda and our back yard are sliding glass doors that bring nature into the house; perhaps too much so. Ever since our last cat died, our back yard has become a madhouse of birds species taking advantage of water during this terrible drought. And, of course, taking advantage of a predator-free space. But for some reason, the white-winged doves--not the sharpest crayons in the avian box--have been crashing into the sliding doors. At least once a day, the loud bang of a flying object hitting glass can be heard.

Once in a while the stunned bird manages to fly away, but most of them kill themselves. It's a wonder the glass has not cracked. We have not figured out why the doves do this. The other species don't. Are they pursuing one another and not watching where they are going? Is the reflection in the glass fooling them into thinking there is open space there? Why are they the only ones that crash?

Meanwhile, let us note that doves make good eating. I have tossed away the last birdy cadaver, and from now on I plan to clean and freeze the crashing birds. It shouldn't be long before I have enough to make a nice meal. Google has plenty of recipes for dove. Take a look.

On the exercise front, nothing is happening. Maybe next week.