Mourning Dove

I went out to take out some trash the other day, and heard a Mourning Dove.  Sure enough, it was secure on the wire above my drive.  We’re actually overrun with the darn things, but as far as I can see, they haven’t caused any trouble.

Each time I hear one I think of my Dad.  Long ago, I remember hearing the dove’s call.  I was outside, and Dad was with me.  I believe I was between 6 and 11, based on where we were living at the time.  Anyway, I mentioned the bird’s call, and Dad said, “That’s a Mourning dove.”  I remember replying that it is afternoon, why was it singing.  I got a story of a different kind of morning.  Funny that I remember that to this day.