Davy Dove

Fly high, sweet feathered friend.

Davy Dove, beloved aerial acrobat, professional cooer, and certified bringer of peace, fluttered off this mortal perch on May 18, 2025, at the ripe old age of four (which, for a dove, is basically middle-aged and fabulous). He passed away peacefully in his favorite sunbeam, surrounded by the faint scent of birdseed and the gentle breeze from his favorite open window.

Davy lived a life full of winged wonder. He wasn’t just a bird—he was a vibe. Whether he was circling the backyard like a living drone, strutting his stuff with that signature pigeon-toed prance, or landing on guests’ heads without invitation (and somehow making it feel like an honor), Davy made sure you felt his presence.

He loved life. He loved corn. He loved chasing rainbows (literally, through garden sprinklers), photobombing weddings, and being mistaken for a divine sign. He hated hawks, loud leaf blowers, and the term “flying rat” (which he considered deeply offensive).

Davy’s hobbies included people-watching, dramatic rooftop landings, and cooing along to jazz records. He once attempted to start an a cappella group called “The Beak Boys” but struggled to find other birds with his range or stage presence.

He leaves behind a half-eaten cracker, several startled neighbors, and an emotional support sparrow named Linda, who has requested privacy during this time.

A celebration of Davy’s life will be held in the backyard garden he loved. Guests are encouraged to wear white, toss birdseed (organic only, please), and share their favorite Davy moment. He always said, “Don’t cry because I flew away, smile because I pooped on your car with love.”

In lieu of flowers, please scatter some seed in a quiet place, look up at the sky, and know that somewhere up there, Davy’s still cooing, still cruising, and probably still refusing to come inside when called.

Fly free, Davy. You were the best of birds.