Yesterday my seven-year-old daughter and I went for a nature walk in a nearby park. I can’t call it birding anymore or she won’t go. We had a wonderful time watching lizards camouflage themselves, chasing butterflies and trying to get dragonflies to land on our fingers. We saw one bird that flew over our heads and alighted on a tree branch about ten yards deep into a nearby thicket. It must have gone just far enough in to feel safe, because it sat there observing us as we watched it for several minutes. My daughter, the self proclaimed non-birder, immediately and correctly identified it as a Mourning Dove. She may not be a birder, but she seems to be better at it than I am.