The Fucking Mourning Doves

There's mourning doves that live here. They like the trees outside our place. They're redwoods. Mourning doves don't inhabit redwood environments, but the redwoods here ain't in their own normal environment so the redwoods and the mourning doves have found each other and bonded. In the spring mourning doves build nests. This involves a lot of flying around. Mourning doves are not like other birds, they don't need to scour the outer limits of the universe to find suitable nesting material, apparently they can fashion nests out of slag, trash, freeway debris, lava flows: whatever is in abundance in the vicinity that they live in, apparently they can make nests out of it. So here, I guess, the mourning doves probably make nests out of plant-devouring snails. Since a mourning dove can apparently make a nest out of anything within reach, that means that they do not fly far from the nest site in order to get more stuff. That means that they fly around the immediate, and I do mean immediate, vicinity a LOT. This creates a problem for the human nervous system, at least mine. Because, you see doves do not fly silently. For some reason, when a dove makes a flight from this branch here over to that bush over there, its wings produce a noise like the three year old, with a blue-whale's lung capacity, who has just discovered a roomful party whistles, and now needs to blow them all. A mourning dove makes more party-time racket with its wings while just doing its morning stretching than a drunk with a roll-down whistle on New Years. And apparently mourning doves do not transport nest material in large qualtities. That is, what I am saying is, that they do not haul the stuff to the site in bulk. In order to make fewer trips. Apparently they are uncooncerned about how many trips it will take to gather the nesting crap. time management and efficiancy do not seem to be part of their job performance requirements. They do not really, from what I can see, carry even what I would consider a reasonable amount of stuff from the ground to the work-area per trip. In fact, from what I can see, when a mourning dove alights on the ground to select a beam or girder, if he can't find one, he is content to pick up a piece of microscopically-sized straw and fly it, and it alone, all the way back to the construction site. In fact, judging from the constant noise of Quuanza at Midnight that is passing to and fro past the window as both parents-to-be make their ten-per-minute trips from the nest to the ground, from the ground to the nest, from the nest to the ground, from the ground to the nest, neithr one of these home buiders is in any hurry to haul a load that any other bird or animal would consider "an honest amount." In other words, it sounds like an airport for retards with whistles around here. sometimes they just fly around and do nothing. Mourning doves apparently would just as soon peck at samples on the groound to make it LOOK like they're working and then return to the nest with nothing, if they feel like it. But whether they do any actual hauling or whether they just make endless reconnaisance flights, the bizarre sound like a siren shuddering from the cold, or a rat seized by the legs in the jaws of a vibrating trap that is flapping it about while it screeches, this sound of mourning doves in flight never abates. It is like a traffic jam of clowns upon donkeys in Mexico at a narrow street with each clown raising holy hell at each other using only whistles and bleeter toys. Which would be funny if that was what was actually going on out here. But in fact it's just two mourning doves flying around. Two small birds going from branch to branch and from limb to limb are making more racket with their wings while flying than the wings of an F-16 make in a low altitude pass across a salt flat. I just had an idea. I am going to kill them. Ok, never mind, problem's over.