“Dove” and “pigeon” are not terms of perfect scientific exactitude; both refer to birds in the family Columbidae, and while “dove” is often applied to smaller birds and “pigeon” to their chunkier brethren, this is not an absolute rule. We have four birds of this family here, and they are often the subjects of some confusion. Mourning doves are one of our most familiar birds, but their larger cousin the Eurasian collared-dove is an increasingly common sight following a whirlwind east-to-west invasion of the country. And while everyone is familiar with the rock pigeon, the ubiquitous urban crumb-eater, fewer know the band-tailed pigeon, our native forest pigeon.
Today, I’ll teach you how to recognize all four of these doves, where they live, and why you should like them. Yes, all of them!
Attracting Doves
All four local species are enthusiastic seed eaters and none are difficult to attract to yards in the appropriate habitat. In general, they will eat essentially any kind of seed or grain, most frequently performing clean-up duties on any seed that’s fallen to the ground, but also using broad tray feeders that can accommodate their larger size and general clumsiness. Their mostly seed-based diet contains little water (many other birds can get a large part of their hydration from eating insects or fruits), leading many members of the family to be particularly fond of visiting bird baths as well.
In my capacity as a professional birdfeeder at Wild Birds Unlimited, the one “issue” I sometimes encounter with members of this family is when people living near native woodlands attract too many band-tailed pigeons. Band-tails, while very interesting and wonderful birds, have a few features that render them potentially problematic feeder patrons: their forest-trained acrobatic abilities mean they are the most likely of these species to mess with the narrow-perched hanging feeders you thought were for the finches and titmice and so on, and their gregarious habits mean that what begins as a welcome and innocent handful of birds can rapidly metastasize into a ravenous flock of several dozen. You can take down the feeders in question and they will disperse (band-tails are more or less nomadic), or you can prevent such troubles by offering seed only in pigeon-proof feeders, such as those with outer cages that limit access to small songbirds only, and offering other foods like suet and hummingbird nectar.
Mourning Dove
Identify: These relatively small members of the family lack the clear neck collar found on some of their relatives (they have only an inconspicuous black dot behind their eyes) but do feature unique dark spots on the wings. Mourning doves are a familiar sight, and also a familiar sound. Don’t know it? Edward Abbey described how the mourning dove’s “plaintive call suggests irresistibly a kind of seeking-out, the attempt by separated souls to restore a lost communion” (Desert Solitaire). So just step out into the neighborhood on a sunny, cheerful spring day and listen for the mournful separated souls calling out with an eternally unsatisfied yearning. Easy!
If you’d like some more practicable advice on learning this call, play the video below and note how this vocalization follows a reliable, transcribable pattern: coo-AAHHH, coo, coo, coo, with a long, drawn out second note, followed by three mores coos that gently fade away. Some people mix it up with the hooting of great horned owls, which is more abrupt and stuttering, more variable in pattern, and most importantly is heard at night. As you watch this video, also listen for the distinctive wing-whistle sound upon take off at the end – that is also a classic sound peculiar to mourning doves.
Get acquainted: As far as overlap with humans goes out here in spacious suburbia, mourning doves are our most familiar, widespread, and common species. Rock pigeons are restricted to urban areas; band-tailed pigeons to the woods; collared-doves are still establishing themselves. But mourning doves are present in almost everyone’s yard, thriving in the Bay Area where hunting is widely restricted and indeed expanding their local footprint over the last several decades ( they were historically scarce or absent in winter here before the mid-1900s). Like some others of the family, they can reproduce quickly when conditions are good, and usually produce several two-chick broods in quick succession each year.
That cooing above is probably the most striking thing about this particular dove – here is a well-named bird! (No, they’re not actually mourning, but the point is that I like names that offer some humanly memorable emotional resonance rather than mere dry taxonomic classification.) More broadly, doves have a long cultural history as symbols of gentleness and peace, Christmas and weddings, domesticity and harmlessness and so on. The mourning dove is a particularly apt exemplar for all these traits. Just look at this picture:
Quite possibly the most affectionate-looking bird picture I’ve ever seen, taken right in San Rafael by my friend Risa. Such scenes are playing out every day, right outside your window. Keep an eye out for them and you will soon reconnect with millennia of human-dove understanding which many modern people are losing touch with. Less than 200 years ago, even a city-dweller would naturally turn to dove metaphors to express basic facets of human existence. Let’s revivify our old analogies with first-hand experience.
Écoutez-moi; je vais vous donner un conseil: adorez-vous. Je ne fais pas un tas de giries, je vais au but, soyez heureux. Il n’y a pas dans la création d’autres sages que les tourtereaux. Les philosophes disent: Modérez vos joies. Moi je dis: Lâchez-leur la bride, à vos joies.
Listen to me; I’m going to give you a piece of advice: adore each other. I’m not one to dance around my point, I go straight to what I mean to say: be happy. The only sages in creation are the turtle doves. The philosophers say: moderate your joys. I say: give them full rein.
– Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
Eurasian Collared-Dove
Identify: Very pale, creamy white overall, with a black half collar on the nape. Substantially bigger and heavier than mourning doves, and lacking that species’ black spots on the wings. Their song is a cooing similar in tone to that of the Mourning Dove, but with a three-syllable set of coo-COOO-coo, often repeated steadily and without pause several times in succession.
Get acquainted: Eurasian collared-doves were originally native to the Indian subcontinent, but had spread west across Europe by the later 20th century. They were then introduced to the Bahamas in the 1970s, from where they travelled on their own power to Florida. Since then they have launched an extraordinarily rapid expansion across the country and are now reaching California in ever increasing numbers. They made it to southern California in the late 90s, and then worked their way steadily northward, first recorded in the South Bay in 2003, San Francisco in 2005, and Marin and Sonoma in 2006. While older field guides might still state that they are not found here, the up-to-date story is that are becoming an increasingly common sight in most residential areas. It’s happened quickly – observe their expansion on this animated map from eBird:
Sometimes people tell us they have “ring-necked” doves in their yard: this is usually the bird they mean. This species is a close relative of the domesticated ring-necked dove (also known as ring-necked turtle dove) and the European turtle doves of symbolic renown, from the Song of Solomon to “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” (The origin of the name “turtle dove,” by the way, seems to be that their cooing was once upon a time described as sounding like tur-tur. They don’t resemble or associate with turtles in any way.)
Band-tailed Pigeon
Identify: Similar in shape to the familiar rock pigeons of urban areas, but slightly larger – our largest member of the family. They can also be distinguished by plumage and color: band-tails have yellow feet, a yellow beak tipped with black, and are also more uniform in color compared to the typically two-tone rock pigeon. While collared-doves have a black collar against overall nearly white plumage, band-tailed pigeons have a white collar against dark gray plumage (one old name, perhaps more obvious, was “white-collared pigeon”). While they do have a band on their tail, this is often not very striking unless the pigeon in question is frozen in mid-air with his tail fanned in good light.
Get acquainted: Our native wood pigeon, band-tails can be found in both the conifer and mixed evergreen forests of the North Bay. Strong flyers, they are fairly nomadic as they search out whatever food is most abundant in its season: acorns and madrone berries are particular favorites, but most native berries find their place on the band-tail menu, including elderberry, manzanita, toyon, and so on. Flocks may also descend en masse upon backyard feeders in yards near suitable woodland habitat (if you get overwhelmed by pigeons, visit your local bird store for counsel and counteraction).
Band-tails are the closest living relative of the famous passenger pigeon, which once roamed the eastern United States in huge flocks that could darken the sky and take many hours to pass over. Deforestation and massive market hunting lead to their extinction by the early 20th century. (For their definitive elegy, see Aldo Leopold’s brief “On a Monument to the Passenger Pigeon.”) Our western band-tails have been and are hunted as well, but they don’t have the passenger pigeon’s fatal habit of nesting in immense flocks of hundreds of thousands of birds where they could be easily annihilated en masse. They also benefit from restrictions on hunting, some of them originating in the aftermath of the passenger pigeon’s demise, when we realized what we had done.
The modest flocks we do have – often a few dozen to at most a few hundred – are nothing compared to the famous passenger pigeon flocks, but they can still be a rousing sight and sound when they whip by overhead on heavily beating wings that dopplerize above the treetops. In spring, you can also enjoy their odd floating courtship flights where they spread their tail, quiver their wings, and make odd noises. But most of all I love the sudden explosion of pigeons on the move:
Often the first inkling one has of their presence is given by the loud flapping wings of hurried departure…. Flight is direct and vigorous, but it has the appearance of being labored – the bird weighs a good twelve ounces – and ever and again, overhead, there is the tell-tale clap of wings too vigorously smitten.
– W.L. Dawson, The Birds of California, 1923
Rock Pigeon
Identify: The familiar pigeon of cities and urbanized areas. These birds are stocky, pale gray with black bars on the wings, a darker head, an iridescent patch on the nape, and a white cere above the beak. Rock pigeons are highly variable due to breeding with feral birds that were originally domesticated and bred for various traits, including appearance, so when you see oddly colored pigeons, they are most likely some form of this species.
Get acquainted: Originally native to Europe, Asia, and northern Africa, where they originally nested on rocky cliffs (hence the name), this species was introduced to North America in the early 1600s and has since thrived essentially wherever people are found. They adapt well to both agricultural environments (mountains of delicious grains) and urban settings (abundant trash and handouts). In addition to our unintentional populations, this species is also the one that has been domesticated, studied, and bred for many purposes (such as the homing pigeons used to carry messages during the World Wars).
Why have they been so successful? One of the keys to their reproductive flexibility is their so called “crop milk” or “pigeon milk,” a rich regurgitated food which avoids breeding birds’ typical dependence on seasonal insects and allows pigeons to breed essentially year-round, producing 2-6 broods per year. As with mourning doves, they limit their broods to two eggs per clutch, mate for life, and share incubation duties with females taking the night shift and males the day shift. As long as food and nesting sites are plentiful, as both tend to be in trash-laden cities replete with artificial cliffs of human construction, this appears to be a recipe for urban domination.
Header image: Band-tailed pigeons by Becky Matsubara
Very interesting & helpful – thanks again, Jack!