Darn. I was wondering and hoping.
How protective might The Bully be if you have to handle Ladyboy to take her to a vet? I imagine his name reflects his personality. He knows you’ve never injured him, so might he try an attack?
He was named The Bully because he acted like one to other pidgees. But he runs from me unless he’s “on the nest,” in which case he fearfully tolerates my petting. But Ladyboy often stands her ground and wingslaps me. She’s one tough mama, and she’s the one I’d expect a fight from. But again, she’s not acting sick. I’m going to monitor the situation. The veterinary clinic at the big uni here has a bird specialist on Sundays, although they’ll still accommodate us on other days. I’ll monitor her this week.
If you have to take her to a vet, it might be less stressful for them if you take both. Hubby might even fly off looking for her, and the stress on her being suddenly alone in a strange carrier or whatever might be considerably reduced with him next to her.
Well, it would only be for a couple of hours. But hopefully it won’t come to that. Tuesday night here now, and Ladyboy seems fine, even less sluggish than before. She’s eating, she’s screwing … and oddly, she’s still feeding little Herman, who turns four weeks old on Thursday. Normally she turns all parenting duties over to The Bully long before now, devoting all her attention to the new eggs. But there are no new eggs.
Will keep monitoring.
Heh, Ladyboy and The Bully have taken to perching on the sliding-door runner outside at night. She’s on there now, staring in at me. I just gave her a little wave.
Wednesday night and Ladyboy finally laid an egg this evening. BUT … it’s damaged. One side is caved in. Considering she’s about two weeks overdue, I’m assuming it’s been stuck inside her for a couple of weeks. 
She’s staying with the egg, but I think she knows something is wrong. She actually let me pet her, giving me only a couple of halfhearted wing slaps. But she didn’t leave to go get the food I put out tonight.
I’ll leave the egg there until tomorrow, then decide what to do.
EDIT: Okay, she just jumped down to go eat. I’m not going to go near the window, because it will interrupt her. She’ll run back to the nest and egg.
You might want to check out this site.
http://www.pigeonsaspets.co.uk/category/thoughts/
Scroll down to the heading " How to stop a pigeon from laying eggs," not because that’s the goal but because it discusses a lack of calcium and Vitamin D, and that a lack of calcium causes egg binding.
It’s good to hear Ladyboy got through it.
Thanks for that. The food we give them is rich in vitamins and minerals, but I don’t know the calcium content. This is the first time we’ve seen this happen, so we wonder if maybe it’s an age thing. We know she’s five years old, because five years ago is when she first showed up, following her father and begging for a feeding. (Her father, Henry, is six and still shows up for feedings.) She and her mate have been living out on our balcony a full two years now. Don’t know why they left their old place, because we know they had one. Ladyboy and The Bully used to just show up in the daytime and go home at night until moving here in late May 2013.
But it’s Thursday morning now, and I see a second egg out on the balcony. Kind of smashed flat on the floor, not in the nest. It may have been there last night, but it was too dark out to see it I almost didn’t notice it this morning. Looks almost like a little pile of pigeon poo until you look closely. But a close inspection reveals it to be the remnants of an egg all right.
I’m imagining a scenario in which she suddenly managed to let go of one egg on the floor, with the force of the sudden impact breaking it, then plopping out the other one already damaged in the nest up in the tree pot. Poor girl.
But she seems to be doing okay now. I mentioned she let me pet her a little last night, but that ended soon. She’s back to Warrior Mama mode, fighting me off. I imagine I’ll end up removing the damaged egg in the nest. She’s still guarding it now.
Meanwhile, little Herman is four weeks old today. No signs of virus at all for at least two batches now.
Well, I didn’t have to wait long to decide to remove the egg. Today it collapsed in on itself and sort of mulched into the nest. I cleaned up the remains of the other, squashed egg that was on the floor of the balcony. Ladyboy is still keeping to the nest though. While I was cleaning, she seemed to be daring me to bother the nest. Last night’s permission for me to pet her didn’t last long.
Four-week-old Herman is okay with developments, because he gets more room in the tree pot. Still uses it for his room and can hop in and out like a pro now. Still a couple of days away from flying though.
New photos soon. (But not of the failed eggs.)
It’s Sunday, August 2, and Herman is a full month old today. Hatched on July 2 for 31 days old. And today we saw him fly for the first time, over to the window frames to escape me while I was out there cleaning.
The parents are screwing like teenagers again, so we expect more eggs soon. Hopefully this time will be better. Again, new photos soon.
Do you have names picked out for the next eggs? Why not give them something big and bad from mythology? Horus and Sekr, gods from Egypt with the heads of falcons?
I’ll run it past the wife.
Friday night, and I’m pleased to report Ladyboy successfully laid an egg today, in the tree pot again. We expect the second one on Sunday. Hatchings to start about August 24. I think we’ll pass on the Egyptian god names for now. We missed Sophie last time, so this pair will be Kevin and Sophie.
Herman is 36 days old. The other night, he suddenly disappeared from the balcony after dark. We figure Lydia or Gary must have attacked him and made him fall off. Looking out of the bedroom window the next morning, I saw him two balconies below, and he eventually flew back up here. The parents have stopped feeding him and will sometimes chase him away now, but he can eat seed. Must be lonely without a direct sibling.
Cleaning the balcony yesterday, Ladyboy took a stand in the nest in the tree pot. I swear she seemed to be daring me to screw with her nest. Really looked angry. Trembling. I had to speak softly to her to get her to settle down a bit. She must have been worried I was going to toss out her nest now that it’s egg-laying time.
That’s okay, Sophie is a nice name. My paternal grandmother was Sophia, it means “wisdom.”
Sad news. Herman died suddenly. In the early morning hours, age 37 days.
We noticed he was breathing heavily last night and so were going to monitor him. Then I found him dead this morning. This has happened a handful of times in the past, this sudden death. Seems too quick for the virus.
RIP, Herman. Poor little guy.
Maybe it was the heat?
I doubt it. It is hot, but we’re well past the hot season per se, and it’s not so bad now. Whatever it was came on suddenly. We just started noticing heavy breathing last night, then dead this morning. Poor little guy. It’s happened quickly before with some of the others too.
That makes all four of Ladyboy’s past four eggs come to naught. What would have been Herman’s sibling was a dud egg, and then the last clutch came out busted after being stuck. Maybe the poor girl’s just getting old.
Makes me wonder how many dead squabs are stashed in Henry’s nest, wherever that is. I understand they usually end up just mulching into the nest.
She might be plumb tuckered out. I wonder if there’s a Pill for birds, something that can be mixed into the feed. But The Bully might step out on her.
They seem pretty devoted to each other. Funny but the last couple who lived out on the balcony, Big Pidgee and Little Pidgee, didn’t really live together. She lived here, he lived somewhere else. He’s watch the nest during the day while she was off hunting (or foraging), then he’d go “home” when she returned for the night. The present pair seem inseparable. Of course, back then we were only providing water, not food.
So now besides the parents, Lydia (3-1/2 months old) and Gary (2-1/2 months old) stay here at night. Both seem fine.
And at usually at least once a night, we have to break up a fight between Lydia and Gary. And they know they’re not supposed to be fighting. They know it. Because when they see us coming with the squirt bottle, they get all like, “Uh-oh.”