You've identified an interesting possibility, but the dove did the kamakaze thing yesterday morning. My friend has a digital camera so it is a pretty quick operation from "point and shoot" to "send." He told me later another one also hit the window (and they apparently do have some kind of bird deterrent on the glass) but this was only stunned and managed to fly off. If any of you have ever heard Bailey White's essays on All Things Considered you may have heard the following. It is a very short essay in her book Mama Makes Up Her Mind and other Dangers of Southern Living.
Dead on the Road
My mother eats things she finds dead on the road. Her standards are high. She claims she won't eat anything that's not a fresh kill. But I don't trust her. I require documentation. I won't eat it unless she can tell me the model and tag number of the car that struck it.
Mama is an adventurous and excellent cook, and we have feasted not only on doves, turkeys, and quail, but robins, squirrels, and only once, a possum. I draw the line at snakes. "But it was still wiggling when I got there," she argues. "Let's try it just this once. I have a white sauce with dill and mustard."
"No snakes," I say.
And she won't even slow down for armadillos, although they are the most common dead animal on the road these days. "They look too stupid to eat," she says.
We have a prissy aunt Eleanor who comes to dinner every third Friday. We always get out the linen and polish the silver when she comes. She expect it. Last month we sat her down to an elegant meal, complete with the Spode china and camellias in a crystal bowl.
"The quail are delicious," my aunt sighed. "And I haven't found a single piece of shot. How do you manage it?"
"Intersection of 93 at Baggs Road," recites Mama. "Green late model pickup, Florida tag. Have another one. And some rice, El."
She has many other marvelous essays in the book. I heard some of them over the years on NPR, but others are new to me, and they're all treasures.