On the Nest

In our various comings and goings through the front door, we've been nearly flattened by a bird flying hell bent for leather, if that's possible for a bird to do, from the porch into the yard. Scares the stuffing out of me every time. Poor Mama. She is on the nest, though by now, she may have thrown up her wing and declared to hell with it, her bird nerves undone by our dogs, children and Gene, the dry cleaning guy.

Her nest (located to the left of the front door, so if you come to visit, come 'round back) is beautfully woven of moss and yew. This afternoon, I grabbed Honey and my grandmother's hand mirror in order to get (I really want to say bird's eye view, but I won't) an idea of what's in there.

There's but the one egg, but it's very pretty. Anyone have a clue to what type of bird this may be? Her coloring is similar to that of a Mourning Dove, but she is much thinner (all that coming and going angst) with a longish tail.

And the egg itself looks fairly Easterish, with taupe mottling. Indeed, it is a work of art.