If things are a bit quiet on the porch, if there are no other doves around, occasionally a mourning dove will start people-watching. I’ll look up and there one will be, quietly observing me at my work: sometimes from the patio–they seem to prefer keeping close to the ground when possible–and occasionally, not very often but occasionally, from the back of the chair.
Where I saw that Cooper’s hawk perched, once. The gray concrete and the gray bird, yes, I can see why it would want to keep a lower profile.
It is, as far as I can guess, the younger ones that tend to do this, but I’ve found that when I return their gaze, when it’s just the one bird and me, no other birdly distractions, (the finches don’t count), I can slowly blink at them.
And they will start blinking back.
Bliiink.
Blink blink blink blink.
They have found a way to get my attention. Sometimes it gets them rewarded with extra sunflower seeds, scattered at ground level. Hulled, too! But the time spent sharing a small moment in time, just the blink of an eye, seems to be its own reward to them, and they are quite consistent about copying me. I find it utterly charming. Somehow, I matter to a small wild thing that has no reason it knows of to need me.
And life is good.