Mourning Dove––an unusual visitor from the south
A few days after the threat of ex-typhoon Halong had passed, I paused my car on the Safety Bridge to appreciate a small flock of long-tailed ducks diving in the water below. Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of movement grabbed my attention and for an unbelievable instant, a dove perched on the bridge railing opposite my car.
With barely time to focus my eyes, the bird flew and landed again about 100 feet ahead beneath the railing of the bridge. I grabbed my camera and took a blurry documentary photo through the dirty and distorting curvature of my windshield. The moment I opened the car door for a better look, the bird flushed and was gone.
It was clearly a lost dove but what kind, I did not know. I texted Nick Hajdukovich and it wasn’t long before he replied that, remarkably, someone had just taken a photo of a mourning dove in Nome. The dove in that photo was clearly the same species as mine— and one I should have recognized, since mourning doves were regulars on my childhood lawn in Iowa.
Mourning doves are considered “accidental” on the Seward Peninsula and in most of Alaska, meaning that they are far from their normal range, and are found very infrequently with no predictable pattern.
A dozen or so widely scattered sightings in Alaska north of the panhandle have been documented on eBird over the years, but I found only one previous record of a mourning dove in this region—a partially decomposed carcass found near Wales in June 1965. Surely there have been others, known only to those who saw or were told of them.
Mourning doves are one of most abundant and widespread native landbirds in North America. They breed across southern Canada and throughout the Lower 48 states, into Mexico.
These doves prefer open habitats and are regulars in a variety of rural and urban landscapes where they readily coexist with people, nesting in yards and visiting bird feeders. Their soft, mournful cooing, which inspired their name, is one of the most recognized bird calls in North America.
Seeds make up 99 percent of the mourning dove’s diet, and they eat up to 20 percent of their body weight in seeds each day. They mainly forage on the ground, swallowing and storing seeds in their crop, which is an enlargement of their esophagus.
When their crop is full, they find a safe perch where they digest their meal. Mourning doves need to drink. They have the unusual ability, for a land-bird, to drink brackish water, but not water as salty as sea water.
Populations breeding in the northern parts of the dove’s range are mostly migratory, while southern breeding populations are often year-round residents. Generally mourning doves migrate at low altitudes in flocks of five to 50 birds, along pathways that do not take them over large waterbodies.
Birds are most likely to stray to unexpected places during migration. Young, inexperienced birds are more likely to go astray than veteran travelers, and the doves seen here both appeared to be young of the year.
Wind and storms can force birds off track. Or “misorientation” may occur if the internal mechanisms that guide birds during migration go awry. This can cause migratory birds to fly 180 degrees opposite of the normal direction of travel for their species.
Because there were likely two different mourning doves seen in the area and they appeared in the immediate aftermath of two powerful storms, it would seem likely that the storm had swept them here.
However, both ex-typhoon Halong, and the storm that pummeled Nome a few days earlier, came from the North Pacific with winds that would be more likely to blow Asian birds to our shores than a North American species such as a mourning dove.
We will never know, but the circulation of strong air currents associated with these or some other storm could have displaced the doves at some point in their migration. Interestingly, a mourning dove was also found in Anchorage two days before the doves were seen here, which is also a very infrequent occurrence.
A week after the doves were spotted here, the mourning dove in Nome is reportedly still with us, foraging in a grassy area where naturally occurring seeds and birdseed are sustaining it.
In 2014, a mourning dove strayed to Homer where it survived the winter feeding on birdseed at a local home. This isn’t Homer, but with handouts and a water source, who knows? Like buntings, they are said to be especially fond of millet.
View a video by NIck Hajdukovich of the mourning dove in Nome here: