The lovely weather we are having in Colorado is keeping me outdoors and out of the kitchen. We played a game of "H-O-R-S-E" (basketball) in the front yard the other night after dinner and my husband pointed out the Mourning Doves nesting in our sycamore tree. The photos are a little dark and shady but I am sure you can see the baby. He looks rather developed for a baby but he's very small in comparison to Mamma Bird. I've decided baby bird is a boy and his name is Doug... Doug the Dove. Why do I feel the necessity to name things?
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