It isn't unusual for a dove nest with babies to be blown out of a tree during a wind storm. Most doves cross a few sticks loosely held together and call it finished.
Place the baby doves in a box with a heating pad under the box cushioned with a folded towel. Set the heating pad on low. If a heating pad isn't available, secure the baby doves in a container and place it where it will be shielded from the elements.
Materials:
***12-inch square of 1/4 or 1/2-inch wire screen.
Cut a 12 inch circle.
Then cut a 2 1/2-inch pie-shaped wedge from the circle, and discard it. Pull the circle into the shape of a cone. Over lap the edges and wire them together.
Secure the nest basket close to the crotch of a tree limb from eight to 16 feet above the ground.
Replace the baby doves and watch from a safe distance. The parents should return quickly to feed and shelter them.
© Copyright North American Wildlife Health Care Center
P.O. Box 155
Black Mountain, North Carolina, USA 28711
A non-profit 501-3-C organization dedicated to wildlife research and education
May Brings Abundance in Nature
Whatever Mother Nature does, she does it with all her heart. She
dishes out recovery with blooms and new leaves, songbirds, butterflies,
and bees.
The mountaintop reeled under the devastation of the Easter weekend freeze. The Quantum Cherry tree is still struggling to put on new leaves as if the star magnolia. There aren't enough leaves to provide a canopy for the tender pot plants from the greenhouse. I fear the Clendendron trees, one of all time favorites, are dead. There is no sign of life after six weeks since the freeze. They were not only my favorites, but butterflies covered them from the time they bloomed until fall. The oldest stood 30 feet tall, and provided shade for the Pilgrim geese during the heat of summer. Their demise is much like losing an old friend on the mountaintop.
A few of the Iris are showing buds, and the late blooming peonies are opening. What a luxury to have flowers in bloom again. Spring without blooms is hard to imagine, after waiting months through winter for them to arrive. Some of the lilies are nodding in the warm spring breezes with heads full of buds. Others did not show buds this year.
The laurel is in bloom, and it is a welcome escort down the mountain each morning. Bees are back out and humming, and at evening the whippoorwills call. Although it is past mid-May, it seems that is was March only yesterday. Every year we worry about if spring is early or late, and we fear for plants, blooms and buds. But the plants don ' t
forget, because their memory is not like ours. Plants have a fundamental memory, a response to the rhythms of time. It is part of the order that keeps days and nights, season and years in their immutable sequence.
The scarlet tanager has found the mountaintop again. Some call it a black-winged redbird or firebird. Nobody ever forgets the scarlet tanager, once one visits. Beside the tanager, the cardinal' s deep red seems a bit dull. Only the males are clothed in the vivid red, and then only in the spring and summer. The females have yellowish
olive-green feathers. Her wings are a brownish-gray. When winter approaches the male tanager will look much like the female.
May' s air holds the golden dust that sends many humans hurrying for the tissue box. The air itself is dusted with the substance of life, the pollen crop of the trees. The hickories, oaks, walnuts, and all the conifers spread clouds of sulphur-yellow pollen. It is one of the
oldest fertility rites on earth. Some of the pollen reaches the female flowers and produce the seeds that keep the planet green. It will be over soon, and red noses and eyes will be able to return to normal.
The day begins early now. At first light, the birds begin to celebrate the dawn. The dawn chorus swells into a full cathedral choir by 7 a.m. No one complains that May is a noisy month.
Wisps of silver mist still hug the hollows with memories of midnight coolness at daybreak. The busyness of the day hasn' t intruded yet.
You can hear the breeze whispering through the treetops. The sunrise is the day's beginnings. Perhaps that is what the birds are celebrating. Those who know another dimension of time can, for a little while, participate in genesis itself.
June bugs are already on the back walk. They are blundering beetles
that appear at dusk and linger well into the dark.
Fawns are beginning to appear in the woods. Leave them where you find them. A fawn lacks scent and with their dappled coloring, they are well camouflaged, and usually remain safe from predators. The doe returns to the fawn several times a day to nurse it and clean it. Staying only a few minutes each time, she leaves again to seek food. Most
fawns do not do well in captivity. Leave nature where you find it.
Bees are in serious trouble in the Valley. They are suffering "bee hive collapse." The bees leave the hive in search of nectar and pollen, and never return. This is drastic, because man depends on bees to pollinate crops to produce food. Man cannot replicate what the bees do. There is no substitute for trillions and trillions of honeybees
worldwide, pollinating hundreds of thousands of square miles. If
honeybees become extinct, man may not be far behind. Mites and pollution, including pesticides, had already compromised bees and now a new plague has struck.
"We don't know what is causing the hives to collapse," Edd Buchanan, master beekeeper says," We are meeting and we are studying, but we simply don't know yet."
Researchers have decided to call the latest bee plague "colony collapse disorder." A Cornell University study estimated that honeybees annually pollinate more than $14 billion worth of seeds and crops in the United States, which includes fruits, vegetables, and nuts.
"Every third bite we consume in our diet is dependent on a honeybee
to pollinate that food," Zac Browning, vice president of the American Beekeeping Federation, said.
Some beekeepers on the east coast report losses of more than 70 percent of their hives. Beekeepers consider a loss of up to 20 percent in the off-season normal. Colony Collapse Disorder is not just a United States problem. It is occurring in Spain and Poland as well.
With global warming threatening many species, and now bees seriously endangered, it may be later than we think.
May you always hear the whisper of wings.
© Copyright North American Wildlife Health Care Center
P.O. Box 155
Black Mountain, North Carolina, USA 28711
A non-profit 501-3-C organization dedicated to wildlife research and education
dishes out recovery with blooms and new leaves, songbirds, butterflies,
and bees.
The mountaintop reeled under the devastation of the Easter weekend freeze. The Quantum Cherry tree is still struggling to put on new leaves as if the star magnolia. There aren't enough leaves to provide a canopy for the tender pot plants from the greenhouse. I fear the Clendendron trees, one of all time favorites, are dead. There is no sign of life after six weeks since the freeze. They were not only my favorites, but butterflies covered them from the time they bloomed until fall. The oldest stood 30 feet tall, and provided shade for the Pilgrim geese during the heat of summer. Their demise is much like losing an old friend on the mountaintop.
A few of the Iris are showing buds, and the late blooming peonies are opening. What a luxury to have flowers in bloom again. Spring without blooms is hard to imagine, after waiting months through winter for them to arrive. Some of the lilies are nodding in the warm spring breezes with heads full of buds. Others did not show buds this year.
The laurel is in bloom, and it is a welcome escort down the mountain each morning. Bees are back out and humming, and at evening the whippoorwills call. Although it is past mid-May, it seems that is was March only yesterday. Every year we worry about if spring is early or late, and we fear for plants, blooms and buds. But the plants don ' t
forget, because their memory is not like ours. Plants have a fundamental memory, a response to the rhythms of time. It is part of the order that keeps days and nights, season and years in their immutable sequence.
The scarlet tanager has found the mountaintop again. Some call it a black-winged redbird or firebird. Nobody ever forgets the scarlet tanager, once one visits. Beside the tanager, the cardinal' s deep red seems a bit dull. Only the males are clothed in the vivid red, and then only in the spring and summer. The females have yellowish
olive-green feathers. Her wings are a brownish-gray. When winter approaches the male tanager will look much like the female.
May' s air holds the golden dust that sends many humans hurrying for the tissue box. The air itself is dusted with the substance of life, the pollen crop of the trees. The hickories, oaks, walnuts, and all the conifers spread clouds of sulphur-yellow pollen. It is one of the
oldest fertility rites on earth. Some of the pollen reaches the female flowers and produce the seeds that keep the planet green. It will be over soon, and red noses and eyes will be able to return to normal.
The day begins early now. At first light, the birds begin to celebrate the dawn. The dawn chorus swells into a full cathedral choir by 7 a.m. No one complains that May is a noisy month.
Wisps of silver mist still hug the hollows with memories of midnight coolness at daybreak. The busyness of the day hasn' t intruded yet.
You can hear the breeze whispering through the treetops. The sunrise is the day's beginnings. Perhaps that is what the birds are celebrating. Those who know another dimension of time can, for a little while, participate in genesis itself.
June bugs are already on the back walk. They are blundering beetles
that appear at dusk and linger well into the dark.
Fawns are beginning to appear in the woods. Leave them where you find them. A fawn lacks scent and with their dappled coloring, they are well camouflaged, and usually remain safe from predators. The doe returns to the fawn several times a day to nurse it and clean it. Staying only a few minutes each time, she leaves again to seek food. Most
fawns do not do well in captivity. Leave nature where you find it.
Bees are in serious trouble in the Valley. They are suffering "bee hive collapse." The bees leave the hive in search of nectar and pollen, and never return. This is drastic, because man depends on bees to pollinate crops to produce food. Man cannot replicate what the bees do. There is no substitute for trillions and trillions of honeybees
worldwide, pollinating hundreds of thousands of square miles. If
honeybees become extinct, man may not be far behind. Mites and pollution, including pesticides, had already compromised bees and now a new plague has struck.
"We don't know what is causing the hives to collapse," Edd Buchanan, master beekeeper says," We are meeting and we are studying, but we simply don't know yet."
Researchers have decided to call the latest bee plague "colony collapse disorder." A Cornell University study estimated that honeybees annually pollinate more than $14 billion worth of seeds and crops in the United States, which includes fruits, vegetables, and nuts.
"Every third bite we consume in our diet is dependent on a honeybee
to pollinate that food," Zac Browning, vice president of the American Beekeeping Federation, said.
Some beekeepers on the east coast report losses of more than 70 percent of their hives. Beekeepers consider a loss of up to 20 percent in the off-season normal. Colony Collapse Disorder is not just a United States problem. It is occurring in Spain and Poland as well.
With global warming threatening many species, and now bees seriously endangered, it may be later than we think.
May you always hear the whisper of wings.
© Copyright North American Wildlife Health Care Center
P.O. Box 155
Black Mountain, North Carolina, USA 28711
A non-profit 501-3-C organization dedicated to wildlife research and education
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