Bella the Cat

Alas, poor Bella! The mourning doves started early this year — well, really, spring’s so late they must have decided not to wait — and have already produced two chubby young, who fledged this morning. A short maiden flight from the nest landed them on the nearest protected spot: my fire escape. The mother just joined them. These giant plump bird babies will be too dazed to do anything for the next hour or so except what they’re doing now: waddling back and forth, taking pecking lessons from their mother. Three birds right under Bella’s nose. Bella is squeaking and pawing the window. If she doesn’t explode from excitement before they fly away I’ll be impressed.

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