Last year at exactly this time, we had two fledgling mourning doves living in our garden. This year, we had one. He or she became so comfortable with us that we could walk right past and call out, “Hi, Junior,” and it would acknowledge our presence without hopping away. We could tell it was getting ready to spread its wings last week when it made it to the top of the garage roof. Then, three days ago, William and I noticed that it was perched atop a telephone wire. We knew it was nearly ready to leave the safety of our garden. Sure enough, we couldn’t find “Junior” in our…