All week here at Meg's I've been watching a pair of Mourning Doves, with identification verified by a little web research. I first spotted one on the railing of the fire escape and he, I suspect, has joined me there every morning while I look out the window as I do my exercises. Later when he flew by the side window with a twig in his mouth, and landed on top of the neighbor's air conditioner in the window opposite, I was intrigued. The air conditioning unit is protected by spikes, meant to keep pigeons away, so he hopped carefully down onto the granite ledge. Then even more carefully, he squeezed in between the spikes to deposit his twig on a growing pile making a small, but well-protected nest nearly hidden by the air conditioner. Now as I write this I can just see the bright eyes of the mom, I presume, sitting on the nest and wish I'd still be here to see some new baby Mourning Doves. I've noticed that parenthood in New York City, though not easy, is quite common.