Dove had one last ride

As featured Jan. 13, 2012, on www.cnjonline.com

It looked a little like a seasoned sailor, oblivious to the motion of the world beneath its feet.
Puffed up twice its natural size, with its head scrunched tight into its body, the dove didn’t seem to notice anything at all as it was moved from right to left, forward and backward.
Nor did it notice as the neighboring filly stretched her neck as far as she could so she could nip at its tail feathers right before it passed out of reach.
If I were a bird in on one of our bitter cold New Mexico nights, I might look for a similar perch.
What better place than the broad back of a horse to weather the cold — after all, it has to be the closest thing to radiant heat a bird can find in these parts, short of singeing feathers on a chimney pipe.
A logical as it seemed, it was odd enough that I was fascinated and grabbed a camera to document the slumbering hitchhiker.
If the host-horse had any clue there was a bird on his back, he didn’t care as he impatiently pranced around, anxious to have his feed bucket filled and not amused in the least that I was taking so long and flashing that thing in his eyes.
And sleeping bird, well, he kept sleeping, not willing to give up a good thing unless he was just flat forced to.
I was impressed that he didn’t startle at all the noise I made, discovering later as I went through the pictures that he did indeed open his eyes several times, he just apparently didn’t care enough to move.
Maybe he was just exceptionally brilliant as doves go, seizing a marvelous opportunity when he saw it. After all, where he could he possibly perch that would be safer? As if a cat or fox would dare try and snatch him from the back of a horse!
Or perhaps the little guy was in touch with his African relative, the Oxpeckers, who spend their lives on the backs of rhinos, zebras, buffalo, giraffes and even cattle, feasting on the parasites that nibble on large mammals.
Their coexistence is referred to as mutualism — another way of saying, “you eat my bugs and I’ll let you hang out,” although its said the hosts aren’t always friendly and try to knock them off – understandably, since they literally live on the backs of others, to include courting and... well... mating on the go.
Not to mention, in some cases the birds aren’t above picking at their host when bugs are in short supply.
A friend suggested perhaps the bird was ill, roosting on the horse in some state of delirium. While less inspiring, it was a plausible theory, given there are no Oxpeckers in our area and it wasn’t being a normal dove with the dozens of other doves that were roosting in the nearby trees as they do every night.
Regardless of how and why he got there, it turned out to be his last ride and I found him lying on the ground the next day partaking of a permanent nap.
Maybe my friend was right and he succumbed to some mystery ailment and just slipped away — and off the horse. Or, maybe after they finished eating, the other horses returned to nipping at his tail feathers and finally succeeded.
Could also be that the horse laid down with a full belly and rolled over to scratch that itch on his back.
I still prefer to think the dove had one of those dreams, you know, the one where you’re floating and defying gravity ... blissful ... until you roll to far and hit the floor beside the bed.
And in this case, the bed shifted and stepped.
Whatever happened and as genius as the bird’s idea may have seemed at the time, maybe the other birds are in fact the smarter ones, particularly notable every sunrise as they continue to fly like clockwork from their no-doubt cold, but remarkably safe tree limbs.

Exceptionally brilliant or abominably stupid?

Sometimes, someone who is willing to take a risk and march to a different beat can bring about new ideas that leave everyone else scratching their heads wondering why they didn't think of that.
And sometimes the establishment exists for a reason...

This week, In Search of Ponies recounts the story of a dove who cast off conformity and bucked bird establishment in pursuit of the perfect place to sleep.

To find out if the dove prevailed, visit www.cnjonline.com or www.pntonline.com Friday evening, Jan. 13, 2012.

Or, find it in newsstands Saturday morning, Jan. 14, 2012, featured in the Clovis News Journal and Portales News Tribune.

Dogs adept at catching birds

As featured Nov. 12, 2011, on www.cnjonline.com

Oh yeah, they eat crow. And pigeon, dove and grackle too.
In fact, their prowess has grown to the point that I am actually starting to think Sylvester was miscast and should have been played by a dog.
You would think the fly-boys and girls would spread the word amongst themselves to avoid my yard, yet every morning they march across the porch like a bobble army, searching for leftover pieces of kibble. For each on the porch, there are at least two more perched on the edge of the roof as if they are waiting to see how their comrades fare below, craning their smooth heads and beady eyes to watch as they explore the food bowls and make way to the water dish.
Morning isn’t the only busy time, with the bobble-ones also choosing to visit when the yard is nice and quiet during the dogs afternoon nap, making the porch a madhouse of tweeting, hopping opportunity.
For the winged ones, the back porch is the cultural Mecca of birds, a nexus of societies and a melting pot if you will, with everything from outspoken grackles to peaceful doves gathered there in hopes of finding just one beef flavored pellet.
The dogs usually seem to ignore it, lounging on the warm concrete in the sun, or snoozing on the nearby grass with their legs sticking up in the air.
But occasionally, a slightly lifted lid in an otherwise frozen body will reveal an amber orb intently following the flitting visitors from one side of the porch to the other.
And inevitably, one of the sleeping ones suddenly animates, bounding forward, jaws snapping. The charge is followed by a multicolored squawking cloud rising to the air as the birds make their way back to the edge of the roof to wait for the pooches to go back to sleep again.
I can’t help but wonder if they think it is some hyper-interactive game of ball, where the ball changes direction in mid-air, evades and squeaks. Or perhaps dogs take to playing ball so well because it’s the closest we humans have come to replicating their beloved pigeon game.
Having seen the attempted snatch-and-grabs, but have never witnessed them succeed, I still have had no doubt the dogs are quite good at the game.
Not because I just believe it, but rather because the feather piles around the porch are kind of giveaways.
Admittedly, it was a bit surprising the first couple times I found a dead crow in the yard because I had always associated bird-catching and hunting with cats; credited much in part, I am sure, to Sylvester and Tweety.
Had Looney Tunes chosen instead to make Sylvester a burly bull dog or snappy schnauzer, maybe I would have seen it differently. So too, might the birds on my porch, because they don’t seem to get it that the dogs are a threat to them until it’s too late.
That’s not to say the cats don’t try. Any given day you can see them skulking through the yard, or tucked behind some tall brush watching a fowl foe nearby and it seems most of their time, when they’re not dozing of course, is spent in some type of hunting, stalking or thinking about hunting.
Of course bird hunting does fit cats quite well, with their agile, tree climbing ways and of course the fact they always land on their feet.
But at least at my house, the dogs are far more adept at it — their feather piles outpacing the barn cats at a rate of about 5-1.
The cats don’t even have the corner on mousing, considering I saw one of my pooches happily toting one around in its mouth not too long ago.
You know, on further consideration, maybe Warner Brothers knew about the dog-bird thing and made a wise decision in choosing a cat instead.
After all, thinking back to those cartoon days, what made the cat-bird combo succeed was all about how many times and ways the cat failed.