Someone who came before us attached a birdhouse to a post supporting the roof over our back porch.
This photo is oddly framed because Ms. Mourning Dove doesn't want me near her. She'd fly out of the nest if she could, but she's got eggs and doesn't dare leave them. I took the picture from several feet away, then cropped it.
As far as I can tell, Ms. and her Mr. are on their second brood this summer. The first was a successful pair of little ones, both of whom still gallivant around our back yard gorging themselves. We have a vast selection of bugs and they're welcome to 'em.
I like to sit on the back porch and write in the mornings before it gets too hot. The female tolerates me because she has to, but the male has just about had it. He flies to and from the nest but won't stay there if I'm around. Sometimes he brings sprigs of dried grass for the nest. When he flies he makes a noise like a wildly upset dolphin after too much caffeine. It wasn't until I read Wikipedia's article about mourning doves that I realized it wasn't a vocalization but his wings making all that noise.
I'll always be grateful to the person who put up that birdhouse. I wonder what I'll add to bring joy to the people who'll live here after I'm gone? (Maybe replace those gutters?)