Turning Earth: garden birds - Colin the collared dove

I often feed the garden birds more thoughtfully and consistently than I feed myself. Such five star treatment is perhaps what attracted the collared dove that appeared in February 2000, landing one day in the bare branches of the apple tree, at last light, as the world darkened.

February, a short month full of long nights. So good to see something new when the winter is becoming too much, too long.

Most afternoons that February the dove appeared, alone, and I put out seed, thinking it was waiting for that. Certainly it seemed to be waiting for something. But also so settled, comfortable, just perched there with feathers fluffed up, occasionally looking from side to side.

As night fell, some known and ancient signal too clever for me to sense would send it suddenly flying away towards the tall conifer trees in another garden.

. . . . . .

Pigeons were gathering daily too by then, lining the edge of the house roof like a scene from a Hitchcock movie. The collared dove seemed timid and retiring, faced with the gang of pigeons. It would remain in the apple tree, looking interested in the food, but apparently unable to face fighting its way through to get it. A little like me in Tesco in the run-up to Christmas.

As the weather warmed in March I was out in the garden in the afternoons, planting, digging, digging, planting, digging some more. I would hear the collared dove approaching. Having grown used to the sound of its wings as it flew away, I learned the sound of their arrival too.

I would look up from my digging to see it land in the apple tree branches, and look at me expectantly, bobbing its head around. It was so shy it wouldn't come near me, so I left bird seed out and then pretended to ignore what it was doing, so it wouldn't feel as if I was like some kind of extra-large extra-threatening pigeon.

Most days it was there, at some point, sitting waiting. It slowly learned to associate me with the food that appeared. I tried to get food to it without the pigeons getting it first, by putting it down somewhere out of the way and trying to get the collared dove to come nearer to me than they dared to.

First a metre away from me, then half a metre away from me, then mere centimetres. I'd be crouching there as still as I could manage, waiting patiently for it to make its slow and hesitant approach. It would approach, then get worried and move away, then approach again. Eventually it realised it wanted peanuts enough to risk being near me, and got nearer, and nearer, with each day that passed.

I'd be crouching there with my hand outstretched, and my knees apparently seizing up, with far more patience than I ever thought I had in me. The patience was worth it when the collared dove finally took a peanut from my hand. And did the same for many days after that. Always hesitant, but still trusting.

I assumed he was a male, and this was confirmed when in the spring he started to visit with another collared dove, who I guessed was a female, very similar, but smaller and with slightly different colouring. The difference was only discernible when the two of them were together. His mate was more wary of me and flew off while the male stayed. I often caught sight of them sitting close together on a tree branch, and as the weather warmed up they could be seen mating frequently all over the garden, on top of the shed, in the tree, on the garden wall, anywhere.

A bright day in early spring was made forever memorable by a particularly enthusiastic coupling, which culminated in a loud 'coo'. They then just sat there doing nothing, but looking fluffy and happy, perhaps smoking a sly post-coital cigarette while I wasn't looking.

Collared doves, to me, are beautiful birds, particularly when they appear in pairs. They may be a 'pest' in many parts, but not in my garden. I was so pleased to see them, and their quiet beauty, mainly creamy coloured, slightly pinkish. And to hear them fly, the sound of their wings marking them out from the pigeons.

It is one thing crouching on the ground coaxing a bird to eat from your hand. It is another thing entirely to have a bird fly down to meet you. After learning to take food from me, the dove progressed to flying to land on my arm when I held out food in my hand.

From then it would always fly down to me. Sometimes when I wasn't expecting it, and didn't have an arm outstretched, so it would land on my head. I would then have to walk to the shed where the food was, with the dove sliding about in my hair.

My friend Alison, I knew, might appreciate this, having once been, as she'd told me, in the Young Ornithologists' Club as a child. We were sitting in a noisy pub. 'You were in the Young Ornithologists, weren't you?' I said loudly over the noise. 'You know collared doves . . . ?'

Alison thought I was talking about someone in the Young Ornithologists Club called 'Colin Dove'. So 'Colin Dove' he has been known as ever since.

back to collared doves

Birds in the garden: 'Colin Dove'