Pigeon with a purpose

Our pigeon has a purpose - nest-building amid the Leyland cypress.  But sticking to a tight schedule is a human construct, a means  of handling time.  Pigeons appear to be more laid-back.  

As soon as weather conditions permit, pigeons indulge themselves in short bursts of courtship activity on our fence. A pigeon lands, starts to coo, a second pigeon, summoned, lands alongside and a short ritual commences with neck dipping and preening, accelerating to a period of mutual bill pecking and culminating, a little clumsily, as you might imagine.  Both pigeons then nestle up to each other for a few moments before flying off.

A single pigeon, presumed female, has another pattern.  Fly across garden, land on fence with twig or piece of dried grass in beak.  Then fly up to the thickest part of the hedge, push into the interior, still holding twig.  Add twig to nest, I presume, (I cannot see into the interior of the hedge).  Coo upon completing task.  Emerge from hedge and fly away.

However, nest building appears to be a sporadic activity, either that or I am not observing the pigeon for long enough or consistently enough.  At any rate there are periods of time when the pigeon does not appear bearing twigs, but participates in the courtship ritual (if that is indeed the same pair of pigeons) waddles across our lawn looking for small insects and seed heads, or appears hopefully on our patio to scan for crumbs.  Pigeons do not operate under pressure.

PS  Since writing this our pigeon's laid-back attitude became its liability as our nesting female blackbird sneaked in and took over the nest, raising two chicks.  The disgruntled pigeons after several skirmishes built again higher up the 'wildlife hedge'.  Unlike the blackbirds, they have decided that our back lawn is not the venue to introduce their new chick.

Work Clothes

This week, for the first time in ages, I put on the work clothes I used to wear for paid gardening.  Immediately I was reminded of those afternoons when we used to tend the back gardens of older persons, pensioners.  We would arrive, work hard for an hour, stop for a coffee break with biscuits pressed on my husband, work hard for another hour or more, be paid, re-book and leave with our little green car sometimes loaded high with springy gardening rubbish to be taken to the local tip.  Arriving home I would record the day's takings and start the evening meal.

Nowadays I don't have to travel to work.  I step out of the back door into our garden.  Sometimes, although I shouldn't, I don't change my jeans or wear my gardening trainers.  I snip at and prune stray and untidy twigs in that precise way which formerly irritated me as I heard older persons drawing my husband's attention to some plant he had overlooked.  I take longer over tasks and at intervals look down the perspective lines of borders. noticing small improvements.  I spot weeds early.  I rake over our raised beds until the soil is the 'fine tilth' recommended by gardening books, and crumble clods with my hands. 

Tidying up is simple.  The car stays in the drive, a fistful of cuttings land in the brown bin and I come in to my own cup of tea.