On a sunny, clear March afternoon a Mourning Dove hops across a green lawn. Cars whiz by as the dove pecks at the ground, looks around, pecks at the ground, looks around. The grass is green which means the soil is fertile and makes a good home for bugs and worms. Bugs and worms are bird food. The Mourning Dove feasts. Its feathers are varying shades of brown. Toward the tail-end are dark brown polkadots. Its legs are long, thin and orange. Its beak is long and narrow.
As I inch closer, it senses me and flies away revealing an iridescent blue stripe of feathers on the underside of its tail.