A couple of weeks ago, we found what we believe is a Mourning Dove in a flower pot out on the fire-escape here at the Blue Tower, and after some time it became obvious that it was nesting. While this may be pretty mundane for those of you who live in less urban environments than we do, contact with any form of wild animal other than a squirrel, rat, or pigeon (who I believe are actually some form of hard-boiled dove themselves), is quite unusual, and has had me excited to a level of childish glee even beyond my norm, much to the amusement of my friends and family. The two baby doves have been hatched for over a week now, and today after momma dove had been away for an unusually long time, I found them out of their makeshift nest for the first time ever. A little research reveals that Mourning Doves are excessively common in the US, as is this form of nesting behavior (but it's just as exciting to me nonetheless), and apparently the babies are no more than a week off from leaving the nest for good.

The reason I share this story, is that my ongoing angst over the fledgling doves has caused about all those aware of it to kid me that I'm in the midst of a Tony Soprano-type breakdown (when the ducks departed from his pool). Since I've spoken in the past about the Sopranos here, and know there are even some of you watching the HBO series as a result, I thought you might find amusement at my plight. Just don't be too concerned about my potential breakdown, I think I'm really okay with it (on the other hand, if I have a dream that one of the doves flies off with my privates in his pecker, it might be Prozac time for the Bluester).

Link of the Day: The Call In Sick Home Page. Thanks Bradley Ouimette. A day of deathmatch is just a faked phone call away