I was out walking the dog through a stretch of thick pine plantation in Glen Devon when I stumbled upon the half eggshell from a woodpigeon lying by the path’s edge.
Once the eggs hatch in the nest, the mother woodpigeon will deposit the empty white eggshells some distance away. The remarkable thing about my discovery is that it happened right in the middle of autumn – and this in itself gives an insight into why the woodpigeon is such a successful and ubiquitous bird.
Virtually all our bird species breed in a relatively narrow timeframe in spring and early summer, but the woodpigeon is content to cast aside such hindrances and there have been records of breeding in Scotland in most months of the year. I imagine one reason they are able to extend their nesting season is by taking advantage of spilt grain in our fields after harvesting.
Even as I write this piece I can hear a male woodpigeon ardently cooing in the wood behind my house, keen to attract a mate. If he succeeds, then it could be early November before the young have fledged and are on the wing.
The pigeon family certainly does seem to have an inherent ability to adapt. Feral pigeons are, of course, common in our cities, but perhaps the most astonishing story lies in the expansion of the collared dove.
In what has been described as one of the most remarkable ornithological events of the 20th century, the collared dove didn’t even occur here until the mid-1950s when it then rapidly colonised the British Isles after spreading north-west from Turkey.
But it is not all plain sailing in the pigeon world, as highlighted by the passenger pigeon. A native of North America it made the tragic journey from being one of the most abundant birds in the world during the 19th century to extinction early in the 20th century. A lesson for us all.