Hobo's blog

Hobo Hudson, business dog, author and farmer, shares his latest news and stories about his life and gives prudent advice to his fellow dogs, cats and other animals—humans included.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Dove Field

By Hobo Hudson

I supervise Dad twice a day feeding the birds on the sun deck in our backyard. For some time now, after Dad has refilled the bird feeder in the evenings, an old dove lands on the top of the feeder. It continually scans the sky and never jumps down to eat. A few minutes later, a small flock of doves appear, and a series of tweets go back and forth. Then, the flock flies parallel to the sun deck rail, makes a left turn, another left turn and lands on the rail and walks to the base of the feeder. As they begin to land, their bodies tilt upward, and their tail feathers spread wide to cushion their landing.

It struck me how similar their actions were to hooman pilots when they come in with their planes to land at an airport. They always contact the tower and report their position, altitude and intentions. The tower then gives them landing instructions. Just before touching down, the pilots raise the planes’ nose and pull back the elevators for a gentle touchdown.

I bark a variety of bird languages but don’t understand a chirp of dove, and a while back, I asked my pal, Gimpy, next door to listen and give me a translation.

This is his translation: “Sundeck tower. Bomber Brigade-flight of six with you 100 feet north, decending through 50 feet. Inbound landing for refueling.

“Bomber Brigade. Sundeck tower. Enter a left downwind for niner. Wind 080 @ 6, Altimeter 29.89. Cleared to land. Contact ground on tweet 2 when clear of the active.

“Bomber Brigade: Roger.”

The Bomber Brigade is a group of young doves who acquired their nickname when, as rowdy teenagers, they used to sit on electric wires over sidewalks waiting for an unwary hooman to walk under them. They would carefully compute the hooman’s course and speed, and then—SPLAT!  Since growing older, they have mended their ways but have never outgrown their nickname. I guess the reputation you acquire in your early life is hard to live down later.




My name is Hobo Hudson. I’ve always considered myself a terrier mix, and I’m going to leave it at that. I used to share my mom’s website writing about my life, but Mom’s stories somehow got in my way. So, I deemed it more appropriate to open my own blog, which also allows me to engage my siblings in writing posts if I’m running short on time. After all, I’m a busy dog. My mom helps me with my blog now and then, but I think it’s only to safeguard my good reputation. Her website, newsandtales.com, contains some great stories.
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Bruny Hudson
Bruny Hudson, manager and editor of Newsandtales.com, assists as a consultant with Hobo’s blog.
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