Yes, that’s what I’m calling momma dove on the porch. I got some better photos of Pidge sitting on her chair—or nest, if you will. Turns out there’s another window right by her, you know, in the dining room–also known as the room into which I never ever go unless there’s the stench of dead bodies, in which case I might send Josh.

She blinks at me warily when I’m up against the window pane snapping pictures of her, but won’t budge and inch even though I think there might be tiny babies under her that are no longer inside a shell. Wait and watch some more…

To answer T’s question: As to whether or not she attempted to weave any of the twigs together, your guess is as good as mine (I guess yes, she probably spent 3 seconds twisting two twigs before quitting. She might be a single mom and was tired, because I haven’t seen any male Pidge visiting or even flying by). I didn’t touch her nest lest my nasty human stank cause her to abandon the babes, and the last thing I want to do is have to sit on some other momma’s eggs for another two weeks! That just wouldn’t be cool.