Pigeons and Doves

Rock Pigeon

(formerly Rock Dove)Columba livia
The retreat of wintering Turkey Vultures in Letchworth SP into their night roosts “is their most spectacular behavior and is often in concert with the squadrons of 75-100 Rock Doves that have a year-round home in the canyon,” Letchworth naturalist Doug Bassett observed in 1989. “This area is known as Inspiration Point, and this aerial show is yet another dimension to the emotional view of the Middle and Upper Falls.” (KB 39: 76) In downtown Rochester abundant, feral pigeons seek handouts at bus stops, and annoy motorists by unleashing their droppings on cars parked beneath the bridges where they nest. Along the west lakeshore, they cluster atop silos and forage through cornfields for grain. But at Letchworth State Park they are in their true element, nesting and perching on the sheer walls of the gorge, just as the original wild populations nested on seaside cliffs in Eurasia centuries ago.
Background
Wild Rock Doves are native to Europe, North Africa and parts of Asia. This species was introduced to North America in the early 17th century by colonists who brought domestic pigeons to Atlantic Coast settlements. “Unlike the European Starling, House Sparrow, and other introduced species, the Rock Dove was first introduced so long ago that there is no accurate record of its introduction or subsequent range expansions,” Steven C. Sibley notes in his profile of this species for The Atlas of Breeding Birds in New York State. (Andrle, p. 188) Birds escaped, establishing feral and domestic populations across the continent. However, distribution is spotty, primarily in cities or towns or at farms with livestock. In the wild, nests on cliffs and must forage in distant fields; this ability to navigate long distances is further cultivated in homing pigeons. Flight muscles account for about 31 percent of body weight, accounting for superior flight performance. Nests on ledges, building new nests atop old ones year after year. Fecal pellets accumulate on and in nests, “cementing nest elements into sturdy potlike mounds, and nests become larger month by month. Unhatched eggs and mummies of dead young may also be included. . .” These birds are highly prolific, producing as many as six or seven broods a year, even in winter because young are fed crop milk. (BNA 13: 1-4, 6-9)This species was basically ignored on bird censuses for many years. It was excluded from Eaton’s Birds of New York and wasn’t tallied on Audubon Christmas Bird Counts from 1950-1974. (Andrle, p. 188) And as recently as 1953, the Genesee Ornithological Society did not include this on its list of species seen that year, since they were not regarded as “truly wild birds.” (GOS, November-December 1953)
Status
The Monroe County annotated list (1985) described this introduced species as a very common permanent resident. So does Fox (1998) in his listing of Livingston County birds.
Occurrence
In the wild they inhabited seaside cliffs (BNA 13: 3), so it is not surprising they would adapt to downtown buildings as cliff substitutes but also find the sheer walls of the Letchworth Gorge the closest thing to “home.”

This species is noted for nesting at almost any time of year. John Brown reported that a young bird fell from a nest built under the eaves of a building at the Wise Die Casting Co. in Webster in January 1972. A worker there “erected a box and put the bird in it. The parent birds promptly accepted the new domicile and started feeding their young.” (BA, 6 January 1972) Lakewatchers at Hamlin Beach noted one “coming across the lake despite strong southerly winds” on 24 October 1993. (The Raptor Researcher, 7/2:9)

Other maxima: This does not usually show up in the noteworthy sightings. However…
500 on 10 October 1978 (Listman) were along Janes Road. (LG, November 1978) 2,800 on 17 January 2006 (Davids, D. Tetlow) at Mendon. (LG, March 2006) 400 on 16 February 1982 (Davids) Retsof and Nations Road. (Fox, p. 54)
Misc.
They can be a nuisance. Savvy commuters avoid parking in certain spots under downtown bridges, lest they want to clean pigeon droppings off their windshields. The accumulated droppings around roosts and nests can pose a health hazard. They even caused a ceiling to collapse at the Paddy Hill branch of the Greece library in 1978. When William T. Beckman, Greece maintenance superintendent, climbed into the belfry to investigate, he found about 80 dead pigeons and 20 dead blackbirds scattered over the floor. “Droppings clogged the belfry gutters and the floor was hidden by droppings six inches deep. The droppings trapped water that had seeped into the storage room ceiling and caused it to collapse.” (“Remains of 100 Birds Found After Library Belfrey Collapses,” TU, 14 July 1978)

White-winged Dove

Zenaida asiatica
Another of Mike Davids’ predictions came true while he was driving home from church with his wife and daughter on 8 June 2002. As he drove down Church Road, just east of Walker Road, he spotted a dove on top of a telephone pole on the north side of the road. Even with his naked eye he could make out the white crescent on the wing. He stopped the car. “Isn’t there white on that bird,” he asked his wife. She concurred. Then it flew and landed in the back yard, and Davids’ daughter, sitting in the back seat, added her confirmation. “I can see it, I can see it, too.” Davids drove home and called other birders. It was our first regional record of this species. Now comes the truly bizarre part. Brett Ewald, alerted about the White-winged Dove, went up around the corner in search of the bird, which had disappeared, and instead found a Eurasian Collared-Dove. This was not just a regional, but a statewide first. Davids and other birders converged on the spot. Somebody happened to ask what a White-winged Dove sounds like, and Davids replied “something like a Barred Owl,” when they immediately heard the bird calling. The White-winged Dove was now sitting in a tree singing in the same spot as the Collared-Dove!“Some things happen that are so freakish it is hard to believe,” Davids said. If nothing else, the incident “made a good case for going to church.”
Background Prior to the 1980s, the White-winged Dove’s presence in the U.S. was primarily along the lower Rio Grande Valley of south Texas. Since then, however, it has expanded northward, and can now be found breeding as far north as Oklahoma. Largest single U.S. population is in the city limits of San Antonio, Tex. “A growing human population in the southern United States during the final decades of the 20th century brought increased agriculture and ornamental trees, providing additional feeding and nesting habitat for the species and perhaps contributing to its northward expansion,” notes the profile of this species in The Birds of North America series. It is also recorded with increasing frequency outside this range, with possible expansion occurring north along both Atlantic and Pacific coasts. Some birds move north to occupy areas in winter that are not occupied during the breeding season. It has appeared a backyard feeders in winter in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland. Unlike Mourning Dove, it will feed on sources of food elevated above the ground, such as seed heads of corn, sorghum or sunflower, and readily uses elevated bird feeders. The Texas breeding population, which accounts for the vast majority of this species in the U.S., increased from 140,000 in mid 1950s to more than 2.2 million in 2001. (BNA 710: 1-3, 5, 17) Status Casual, very rare visitor.
Occurrence
1. One on 8-18 June 2002 (Davids, mob) Hamlin. (KB 52: 348, 351) Accepted by NYSARC. (KB 54:295)

Eurasian Collared-Dove

Streptopelia decaocto
See White-winged Dove profile above for the remarkable circumstances on 8 June 2002 during which our first sighting of this species occurred. The bird lingered until October, then “returned to its favorite farm yard in Hamlin” the following 16 March 2003. “Whether it migrated out of the area or stayed in the area somewhere undercover is up to your conjecture,” Bill Symonds noted. (LG, May 2003) It remained through April.
Background
First introduced in the New World in the mid 1970s in the Bahamas, this species has quickly spread in North America, aided by the proliferation of backyard bird feeders and this bird’s ability to produce three to six clutches a year. It is most uniformly distributed in the southeast U.S., but has been documented breeding in California, Colorado and Montana, and has been sighted into southern Canada. “Currently little appears to be limiting the spread of this dove in North America . . . it seems highly likely that the Eurasian Collared-Dove will become a widespread, permanent member of the North American avifauna.” The impact, if any, on native North American doves, such as Mourning Doves, is not year clear. (BNA 630: 1, 2, 10)
Status
Irregular, very rare visitor
Occurrence
Only three records. One 8 June-11 October 2002 (Ewald, mob) Hamlin. (KB 52: 348, 53:50) Accepted by NYSARC. (KB 54: 295) One presumed to be the same bird then “returned to its favorite farm yard in Hamlin” the following 16 March (G. Chapin, mob) remaining through April. (LG, May 2003; KB 53: 232, 234) 3. One 1-17 June 2005 (D. Tetlow, mob) at Hamlin “about a mile-and-a-half from the first.” (KB 55:363)In accepting the 2002 record, NYSARC noted that “Eurasian Collared-Doves have been reported in the state before, and the question of origin always remains an issue to be debated and studied. This bird had no obvious evidence of prior captivity, although its simultaneous arrival with a White-winged Dove and the lengthy stay of the Eurasian Collared-Dove raised concerns among some Committee members. This species is commonly kept by pigeon breeders, and there have been releases of caged birds in many parts of North America. That said, the remarkable range expansion of this species in the past weighed heavily on the Committee’s acceptance of this sighting as a vagrant for the first fully acceptable state record.”

Mourning Dove

Zenaida macroura
Just out curiosity, Frank Dobson spread a couple quarts of sunflower husks over the ground in his yard in February 1984 to see what they might attract. First to arrive was a squirrel. Next, a Mourning Dove and “before long six of them were wandering slowly about, searching for leftovers. Now they are cooing from the phones wires every morning.” (Birds, 19 February 1984) This was a far cry from just 50 years earlier, when Edson, in a December column, noted that the Mourning Dove “as a rule has moved south into its winter range.” Only at “very infrequent intervals” would an individual remain through the winter, “either because of some injury . . . or a food supply was located that was so satisfactory . . . that the bird was loath to leave.” (WBR, 23 December 1935)
Background
Often mistaken for an “owl” by non-birders because of the mournful cooing song, this is one of our most familiar and abundant birds and – by a large margin – the most hunted of all our gamebirds, with nearly 70 million shot annually in 36 states. It is a year-round resident in all of the United States except the northern Great Plains, extending into Mexico and the Caribbean, nesting readily around yards and farmsteads, and frequently visiting feeders. Though migratory, at least some birds winter in most of this range. This species benefited from changes that occurred with European settlement, especially the opening up of forests, the plowing of grasslands for cereal-grain production, the planting of shelterbelts across the plains and the development of stock ponds there. Population was estimated at 475 million birds in the early 1990s. (BNA 117:1, 6, 19-20) The clearing of the forests for agricultural lands helped pave the way for this species’ eventual increase in New York. And yet, the abandonment of farmland and subsequent reforestation or development has apparently had no impact on its numbers, because it just as easily adapts to housing tracts. “Unlike its relative the Passenger Pigeon, this dove has readily adapted to humans’ use of the land,” Stephen Eaton notes. (Andrle, p. 190)
Local history
Before 1900 it was rare in New York until hunting was regulated. Even then, it was primarily a summer resident. “All summer long the mournful cooing of this little pigeon can be heard in the orchards and shade trees . . .” Eaton (1910) wrote. However, it “but rarely remains throughout the winter months in the warmer portions of the state.” He listed it as a common summer resident in Livingston and Wayne counties, and fairly common in Monroe. (Eaton I: 387-388, county charts) R. E. Horsey, in his listing of birds seen at Rochester and Monroe County from 1913 to 1936, indicated this was primarily a nonwintering, summer resident, with average counts of one to four birds, and a maximum count of 20, on dates ranging from 11 March to 28 November. It was uncommon in winter here as recently as the 1940s before the great increase in bird feeding. (WBR, 8 January 1940) Even in 1951, individual birds on 3 and 20 November made the list of noteworthy records. (GOS, June/December 1951) So did “four flocks of Mourning Doves (15 to 50 birds) . . . in widely separated areas” in January 1954. (GOS, January-February 1954)Indeed, when Leo Tanghe examined the results of 1,665 outings by Genesee Ornithological Society members from 1951-1954 within a 50-mile radius of Rochester, this species was far more likely to be seen last half of March through first half of October. During November through February it was reported on only about 10 percent of the outings, though average counts of up to 20 to 30 birds were observed. (KB 5: 69: 4A-4B)
Status
The Monroe County annotated list (1985) described this as a common to very common permanent resident.Livingston County, Fox (1998) considered this a common permanent resident.
Occurrence
Summer/breeding status: Birders and casual observers alike could not help but notice an “apparent boom” in their numbers in 1980, “particularly in residential areas.” (KB30: 167) Evidence of breeding was documented in virtually every block during the BBA projects.

Nesting begins early and continues late. One was on its nest on 19 March 1995 (K. and J. Fox) at Braddock Bay. (GOS, May 1995) Another was discovered nesting along West Henrietta Road in mid September 1952. “The young hatched sometime during the last week of the month and were banded on September 30th just before leaving the nest.” (GOS, September/October 1952) However, the record for our region was set in mid October 2005 when Dave Tetlow found a Mourning Dove pair sitting on a nest with eggs at Manitou. Not surprisingly, this nesting attempt was unsuccessful! (KB 56:67) Winter: Perhaps the most significant change has been its occurrence in winter. “A flock of 20 mourning doves at any time, in this location, is something to cause the bird student to wonder if eyes are playing him false,” Edson noted in 1938, “but two bird students were fortunate enough to see a flock of this size in the vicinity of Pittsford Jan. 2. Previously one or two birds have been seen here at rare intervals in winter, but there are no winter records of their being seen here at this season in numbers that, by the wildest stretch of the imagination, could be considered a flock.” (WBR, 10 January 1938)Clearly, this species was not always as common here as it now is!Sixty on 26 February 1949 (Wolf) were at Scottsville as part of an “early movement” during a “particularly mild period.” (GNR) Also noteworthy were 100 on 1 January 1962 (Listman) at Fowlerville (GOS, March 1962) and 200 on 11 January 1963 (Davis) at Rush. (GOS, March 1963) A total of 301 on 28 December 1969 on the Rochester CBC nearly doubled the previous high. (KB20: 78) “More than ever” were reported during the winter of 1975-76, with “flocks of up to 100 or more at feeders everywhere.” (KB26: 102)

Other winter maxima: 600 on 30 December 1981 (Davids) at Hilton. (GOS, February 1982) 400 on 3 January 1989 (Claffey) at Lima. (Fox, p. 54) 350 max. on 9 January 1999 (Kimball) at Avon. (GOS, April 1999)
Noting the increase in wintering birds in 1962, John Brown hypothesized this “might possibly be caused in part by the fact that individuals with a strong migratory urge are exposed to hunters’ guns in the southern states.” These birds would be killed off, while hardier, nonmigratory birds remaining in the northern states would be left to take their place. (BA, 15 January 1959, 6 December 1962, 28 February 1963) At first there was some uncertainty whether the birds seen here in winter were actually permanent residents or birds that moved down from more northerly areas to spend the season. Gerhard Leubner’s banding returns pointed to year-round residency, John Brown reported in 1959. Three doves caught in his nets in January 1959 wore bands he had put on the previous summer. (BA, 22 January 1959) However, many of our birds apparently still feel the urge to migrate. An adult male banded at Clarkson on 14 August 1986 was shot that 17 October by a hunter near Ironshire, Maryland, which is about 375 miles southsoutheast of Clarkson. (LG, January 1988) Interestingly, a juvenile banded near Palmyra on 25 August 1969 was shot a year later, not in the southern states, but in California’s Shasta Valley! (Bull, p. 320)
Misc.
No doubt the flimsiness of the nest accounts for the frequent use of roof gutters as nesting places because they provide sturdy support. This birder observed this firsthand. After landscaping his yard in Greece specifically with bushes and trees for birds to nest in, he was somewhat dismayed that a pair of Mourning Doves instead chose a gutter. The birder was certain the nest would fail in such a location, completely exposed as it was to the hot sun and the drenching downpours of thunderstorms. Nonetheless, the doves successfully fledged two young birds. The female would sit on the nest, tail sticking out over the edge of the gutter, even when the birder stood directly underneath, only a few feet below – no doubt convinced she was “invisible.”Less fortunate was the pair that chose in 1982 to nest in a gutter at Frank Dobson’s home, also in Greece. “They chose the low end of the gutter, right next to the downspout,” he noted. Two eggs were laid and “faithfully incubated every day.” Then the rains came. “A sadder sight would be hard to find. One driving rain and thunderstorm, with torrents of water pouring off the roof, there sat the dove soaked and soggy with water flowing out all around her. It rained for several days but the doves stayed on their station. Then one evening they were gone.”Dobson climbed a ladder for a look. He found a dead nestling still in the gutter, “undoubtedly killed by the cold and wet. There was nothing left of the nest and the doves never returned.” (Birds, 6 May 1984)

Passenger Pigeon †

Ectopistes migratorius
“They occupied the trees of seventy-five or eight(y) acres; there were, in some instances, as many as thirty nests on a single tree.”So recalled Joseph Sibley of Rush, as quoted in 1851 in Orasmus Turner’s Phelps and Gorham Purchase. (GOS, June 1992) “I have seen them cover the heavens from the northern to the southern horizon, almost shutting out the light of the sun. They flew low and the sound of their wings was like distant thunder.” So recalled James L. Howard, 80, of Clyde, Wayne County in 1916, nearly a decade after the last Passenger Pigeon was seen in New York state. (“Claims to have shot the last wild pigeon,” UA, 8 January 1916) As Beardslee and Mitchell observed, “It does not seem possible that a bird so abundant could have been so soon extirpated.” (B&M, p. 271)And yet, that is exactly what happened to the Passenger Pigeon. “The history of the wild pigeon in New York State, as told by early writers, or as handed down by pioneer settlers and remembered by persons now living, would fill a volume,” Eaton (1910) wrote. (Eaton I: 381). It is also a damning indictment of human carelessness, and a strong caution against ever relaxing the laws that now protect our birds. The Passenger Pigeon was once New York State’s most abundant bird, a summer resident whose breeding tracts, containing hundreds of thousands of nests, would extend for miles. “Between April 1 and June 15, 1854, millions flew regularly across Wayne county, N.Y., to feed at the Salt springs near Montezuma,” according to a citation in Eaton. “Huge flocks” or “Immense flights” were listed for Rochester on 13 December 1828, and in the spring of 1875 and the following 10 April. (B&M, p. 271; Eaton I: 382, 384)Howard, for example, remembered when the pigeons would nest in a 30-acre woods just south of Clyde. “Every tree would have from 10 to 40 nests in it. When the squabs were right for eating, people would go to the woods with bushel baskets and come back with them full of these young pigeons. And there would be only one squab to the nest, too.” Farmers would employ boys for the sole purpose of shooting or scaring away the pigeons. In the days before seed drills were used, when the seed was simply broadcast over the ground, huge flocks of passenger pigeons settle on new-planted fields “like a great bluish-gray cloud and eat up every seed.” Howard recalled going at night to a pigeon roost with a party of hunters. “We threw down our guns and took poles and knocked the pigeons down faster than we could have shot them.” So numerous were the pigeons that when they flew southbound over the village, people would stand on a hill just to the south and “knock the pigeons down by the hundreds, they flew so low going over the hill.” Later, when they were no longer as numerous, nets would be spread over beds of wheat, and a blindfolded pigeon used as a decoy to lure hundreds more in under the nets to feed – and be trapped, Howard recalled. “Pigeons would come in some seasons in large flocks, and seriously injure the newly sown crops,” Sibley recalled of those early 19th-century days as a pioneer in the town of Rush. “I have known a hundred dozen to be caught in a single day. In 1812, they made a roost in a cedar swamp in Dugan’s creek. . . . The young squabs were brought away by the inhabitants in cart loads. . .” The Passenger Pigeon withstood millennia of hunting by Native Americans. But it could not withstand the large-scale clearing of forests and over-hunting by European settlers for their mass markets, notes David W. Steadman. (Levine, p. 67) In 1868 the last truly huge nesting in New York occurred – millions of Passenger Pigeons occupying a fourteen-mile-long tract along Bell’s Run near the Pennsylvania border in Allegany County. “A large hemlock would frequently contain 30 or 40 nests …” wrote one eyewitness. (Eaton I: 382) Both Seneca Indians and white hunters camped nearby, killing adults and nestlings “by tens of thousands.” They also removed their eggs. This was especially damaging because each pair typically laid only a single egg each year. On 28 December 1901, the Democrat and Chronicle ran an article headlined “Boy Discovers Rare Birds in Rochester.” Walter Cassebeer of 769 St .Paul St., the article reported, had compiled a list of 117 species “in and about Rochester during the past year.” Among them, a Passenger Pigeon, “which has been considered a very great rarity, at Seneca Park west.” The last confirmed breeding by Passenger Pigeons in the state was recorded 30 May 1904 at Scottsville when adults were observed feeding one fledgling in an “open glade in the great Cedar Swamp.” (Bull, p. 317. Note: this conflicts with the Monroe County annotated list, which indicated the last Monroe County record was 7 April 1895) Howard claimed to have shot a male Passenger Pigeon near Clyde about 1907, and had it mounted and presented to Cornell University. After 1907, there were no more Passenger Pigeons anywhere in New York State to be seen or collected. (Levine, p. 67)[Editor: Considered Extinct 1914]

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