birdfeeder ergo Out the back deck for a smoke, I notice a mourning dove that didn't fly away. Made tame by some malady, it sits quietly under the feeder, feathers all puffed out against the chilly drizzle that mortifies us both. I try not to stare, not wanting to cause an uneasiness, but there is no apparent fear. "Will you live tonight?" A rude question but no offense taken. Here, now, I am warm and dry. When I stand up from Blather will it still be perched there?..............No 100512 ... syringe The bird was probably close to death, then the cigarette smoke pushed it over the edge. 100522 what's it to you? who go blather from