The squabs are here! Or, should I rather call them chicks? In searching for the meaning of the word, the definition of squab came as a surprise to me. I never thought of the word as relating to the meat of a domestic bird. I know that dove hunting season comes in September and I can actually hear the shotgun blasts from my backyard early in the morning.

I didn’t even see the eggs hatch. The squabs were already half the adult size when I saw them peeking from under their protective cover. Except for the feathers, they look like they are ready to fly. It was no wonder that the adult birds incubating them looked too fluffy. Yet, they are hiding under the protective wings of the adult bird.

It didn’t bother them that we were so close to their nest. As I earlier said, they nested where we least expected them and they just fixed their gaze on us. We have replanted and rearranged the pots around them so many times that I lost count. Still, the adult birds and the squabs kept on looking and not making any try to flee or look scared. Not that it bothered us. We actually liked looking at them too. My wife has even started talking to them, like kids.

I know that one day we will find the nest empty and the birds gone. They will be back though. I know it. They have come back many times even with the countless times that they have struggled to build a nest. I think they like it here. We like them to be back too.