By Matt White

A few months ago, our good friend B.F. Hicks decided that our girls needed to raise chickens—which meant that I needed to raise a chicken coop. Rummaging through the barn I found enough lumber to make one, and having accomplished that task, I placed the raised coop in the south shed of our rather large old barn. Of course, when we were finally able to transfer the rooster and the hen from the small rabbit cage (their temporary home) the girls were quite excited.

However, it wasn’t long before the ground beneath their cage was covered with chicken feed. I guess it goes without saying that chickens waste a lot of food. Understand I am not complaining; it is just that Kristin decided our chickens needed the most expensive organic chicken feed on the market…

What to do with all this feed on the ground? I thought about raking it up and putting it in the compost pile. At least that way the moldy grain could be put to good use. But that was before I realized those messy chickens were actually feeding the birds. Yes that is right. They were actually feeding the birds. I have got to say that I didn’t anticipate that.

One morning I was walking in the driveway when out of the blue I heard the rush of wings and the distinctive rattle of the Inca Dove. I looked up just in time to see two small doves with rusty wing flashes land in the bois d’ arc tree beside the barn. When we lived in town this was a sound I heard nearly every day, but since we moved back to the country I figured my days of having this attractive little bird in the yard were over. That is until our good friend decided that our girls needed to raise chickens.

Smaller than the common Mourning Dove, Inca Doves are dainty by comparison. Their buff, gray, or tan feathers have black feather edgings, an effect that makes them appear scaly. They have long tails and are fond of walking—no waddling—on their short, little legs like miniature ducks. They are native to southern Texas and Mexico and only recently began expanding northward into our corner of the state. Typically, however, they are most common in cities and towns, in feed lots and anywhere spilled grains are present. Of course they are often seen dining at bird feeders, but since we live in the country, I assumed that we would not be visited by the dove with the plaintive song—a soft, rather sad, “no hope!” repeated over and over with the mellow urgency of a creature that seems to have given up on life.

Kristin was the one who first noticed that our little chickens were actually feeding the birds. One day she saw the pair, a male and female, fly out from below the chicken coop where they were feeding. In recent days I have heard them calling over and over, but I can’t figure out where they are when they are calling. Curiously, when calling, they almost always seem to be across the street, down the block, or in the neighbor’s yard, because their call is so soft. They remind me of objects in those rear view mirrors that warn “Objects are closer than they appear.” At this point I have not found a nest, but since it is springtime, there is a male and female and plenty of food to eat I am hoping they will nest in our yard. Now if I could just get those chickens to start laying eggs as well…