That time of year when naked trees no longer hide the birds has come. I can spend time watching them with my binoculars and trying to capture their beauty with my camera. The gray doves are here all year, but mostly seen feeding on the ground beneath the bird feeder. This one flew high onto a snag and then posed with that coy tilt of head in the warm glow of the sunset. He looks bronze rather than the soft gray that is his true color. There whiffet and whistle of wing when they fly is common to most. Some people feel their song sounds like a mourning call, but I find it very soothing as if comforting a small child. Their feathers are most seductive looking as if they were made of smooth and soft suede and inviting you to stroke them. They can live many years. I once owned a ring-neck dove and each morning his song would sing me awake. We had to give him to a friend before a long-ago move, but I think he is still alive and that was over a decade ago. For some reason they remind me of chubby and loving nannies.