It’s been a couple of months since we’ve seen mourning doves each afternoon glide in for a sit-in on our wall just beyond the swimming pool fountain. There used to be so many doves that our neighbors houses used to look like planes taxiing on the runway at Sky Harbor, and come late afternoon you could have anywhere from eight to as many as a dozen or more all sitting on the wall, all taking turns fluttering down to the fountain where the water collects in shallow pools for a late afternoon drink and veg-out.

Then one day they were gone. Tracey asked me where they went and I told her that maybe they got a better offer.

Then yesterday afternoon I’m checking the new plantings behind the fountain since a few weeks after they were planted back in mid-September. They look like they’re doing fine, but I wanted to see how much moisture the soil was keeping on our reduced watering schedule. And that’s when I saw the probable reason why the doves had left. No dove carcass, but hundreds of feathers all over the place, as if a two-megaton atomic dove had exploded just above ground zero. I’m guessing perhaps a hawk had disrupted the usual afternoon coffe clatch and took one away (or maybe there’s the rest of the dobve on the other side of the wall).

I’m guessing the doves land there and see the feathers all over the place and it’s “Danger, Will Robinson!” time. I guess I can’t blame them – if I was hanging around a particular spot and saw the signs of mayhem and disaster I’d probably steer clear, too.

When I take my afternoon walks there are a bunch of doves congregating around the small public area down by the end of the street, and I wonder if those are the same doves that used to visit us.

Perhaps this weekend I’ll pick up all the feathers and see if they want to come back.