There were mourning doves in the road this morning, right where they always are, looking at dirt and rocks, just like little kids. They always get safely out of the way when cars go by, but they do so very thoughtfully and slowly, as though they can't make up their minds until the last moment whether to sit or escape. I wonder how the species thrives; this is a bird that has a whole tree to live in, and yet they put five sticks together, and call it a nest, and then they lay two eggs, only one of which will hatch; then later in the spring or summer they will lay two more eggs, with the same result. They probably take everything right from the hand of God; otherwise they would all be dead, I think.
There are gray and pink doves in the dirt. They aren't at all business-minded like robins; these doves are just existing, phlegmatic, with nothing to do but sit on the ground, looking at things; if they get bored of that, they go sit on a branch or a wire and look at things.
Someone told me that there really isn't any difference between doves and pigeons; they belong to the same species. I'm not sure about that theory; but I got to thinking, why do all of our hymns have doves in them, and never pigeons? And why white doves, and never pink and gray doves? I looked up in the gospels for that dove that came to sit on Jesus's head (the very thing doves like best to do), and not one account claimed that it was a white dove, or that it appeared supernaturally lacy and full of light, like the paintings say.
Could it be that we sing about doves because they rhyme with "love" and "above", and "Pigeon" doesn't even rhyme with "tittle"? God chose a slow, shy, silly little bird to proclaim his Presence and his Son; it must have been like the very first Dove coming to rest on the very first Adam's head, a holy communion between Man and Bird; to me it seems like this wild and holy image gets spoiled by too much poetic beauty. A pigeon came as the messenger of the Spirit; not a great eagle or a somber heron or even a businesslike robin. It was a dumb pigeon, and it wasn't necessarily white.
The Psalter Hymnal would be different if folks sang about darling silly pigeons:
Come, Holy Spirit, heav'nly pigeon
Our contrite hearts inspire;
You've got all the love, so give us a smidgeon,
And feed the pure desire! 
Author