This Bird is a Slut!

This summer my wife and I have experienced the phenomenon of ultimate motherhood.
Right outside the entrance to our house, hangs a flower basket full of dead plants that I didn't get dumped last fall after frost did away with our flowers. When I decided to dump it, I discovered that a female mourning dove had made a nest in this basket. Mind you, it is right beside the door where I could touch her anytime, but for some reason Momma B felt very safe there. We soon discovered that she had laid two eggs there and was nesting and preparing for her young to be born. Every time we went in and out we would talk to her and ask her how her day was going, how's the incubating coming, etc. Of course, she just looked at us with those huge dove eyes, and remained still. She blended into the dead flowers, and visitors would come and go, and never notice her. Finally the day arrived that she gave birth, so to speak, of two of the ugliest little critters you ever saw. It was interesting to watch how Momma B kept them completely underneath her, and once a day Poppa B would come, light on the edge of the basket, and perch there while Momma B flew away to eat and probably just chat with the other new moms who were out on the town for a few minutes. Poppa B would sit and keep vigil until Momma B came back, then he would fly off. Momma B would open her beak and the little buggers would stick their heads into her mouth and feed. Boy did those little ones grow fast. Within two weeks they were so big that Momma B couldn't cover them anymore, but she was so careful to tend them, and kept them close to her. When they finally left the nest, they were kept under close watch by Momma B and if they strayed too far away, she would shoo them back under the hastas growing beside the porch. Too soon, the little ones left the toddler stage and began flying and took up roost in our flowering cherry tree. Her job finally accomplished, Momma B, who surprised us by being a slutty little tart, again nested in our flower basket and produced two more eggs, thus beginning the whole hatching cycle again. Last Friday, her second brood left the nest and stayed under the hastas. I watched them flit about on Saturday, and by Sunday they had both become expert pilots. I hear a lot of cooing coming from the flowering cherry, and suppose they are having a family reunion out there. I suppose Momma B is out plying her wares on some unsuspecting bachelor B and will come home to roost and expect us to welcome her back into the fold again. Well, we left the basket hang, dead flora, old nest and all. After all even "Birds of the street" need a place to call home.