xt7jh98zct60_52 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/mets.xml https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/2015ms086.dao.xml Bevins, Martha 0.05 Cubic Feet 55 items archival material 2015ms086 English University of Kentucky The physical rights to the materials in this collection are held by the University of Kentucky Special Collections Research Center.  Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Martha Bevins letters to Tom McCarthy Radio broadcasting. Agriculture -- Kentucky. Birds Women air pilots. 1959 March 17 text 1959 March 17 2016 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7jh98zct60/data/2015ms086/Box_ms_42/Folder_1/Item_52/1959_3_17_Bevins_Saving_ice_bound_doves_p1.pdf 1959 March 17 1959 1959 March 17 section false xt7jh98zct60_52 xt7jh98zct60 r t 7 . % rm
” ‘ ’ Morning View Kentucky
_lm_ 17 March 1959
Congratulations, Colpnfil,
You should simply sparkle when bedecked with one of those big,
black colonel's hats and matching necktie. ~
One morning last week, I missed part of your program due to the ,
fact that I was over in the pond-field digging out doves.

,;.When Cincinnati wgs receiving its traffic—tangling afternoon snow,
.this area was Just enough farther south to be pelted with amixture
_of Bleet and freeZing rain for the greater part of the day. Only
"occasional periods of pelleted snow and of warm rain prevented the

icy deposits from building to the danger point on the big trees, which,
however, were sufficiently burdened by their glassy sheathing to
crackle ominously when touched by winds.
By the time Cincinnati was struggling in deep snow, the ground here
lay hidden beneath a white, crusty admixture of snow, sleet and ice,
froZen almost to the hardness of concrete.
When they came in for their evening meal shortly before dark, the
doves Were flying badly, and I realiZed they would be in real trouble
' by morning, should the freezing downpour continue after dark. Already,
ice beaded their sleek backs and clung thicklysto their long, tapering
tails. Several were so encrusted that it Was impossible for them to
spread their tail feathers in the customary landing fan. Others
still maintained some degree of control over the long feathers, which
flared in spiked disarray.
Next morning, a miserable group bf doves arrived for breakfast. Their
backs and tails were whitened by clinging ice, and many lacked some
of their tail feathers, having torn them out in their struggles. They
had frozen to the ground as they slept. One big fellow Was completely
tailless and resembled a strange flying capsule.
While many doves departed northward earlier in the month, there
should have been about twenty hungrily eating the small grains, and
there were no more than a dozen. Somewhere, the others crouched
helpless, imprisoned by the steel—hard crust.
Knowing that many of them sleep amid buckbush clumps on the far side
of the pond-field, I made haste to hunt them. as I gathered my
equipment of one old-fashioned market basket and a little Army shovel,
I considered taking my tiny radio, but decided against it because of
the slippery footing.
I progressed satisfactorily across the uneven iciness of the field
until I incautiously advanced upon a little slope more glassy than
the rest, whereupon my galoshes beCame as skis and I skidded

 r .
helplessly toward the pond, which was not frozen. Suddenly my right
foot encountered some small obstacle and I continued down hill in
a heap, the little shovel flying from my hand and clattering on
ahead, to the dismay of my accompanying titmice and Chickadees. I
partly Sat upon the basket as I fell, but it Was not altogether
squushed, and I found it still serviceable. Though it meant missing
part of your program, I Was glad that the little radio Was not in
Recovering the shovel, I skirted the pond toward a spot where
stray feathers and broken ice crust marked the doves' sleeping area.
Nearby I found those still entrapped. Two, not so heavily enveloped,
could fly when I released them; but when I slid the little shovel
under one of the more deeply imprisened birds, and gently lifted
him, I found that he Was unable to free himself from the ice, and
that my efforts to help him would badly damage his plumage.
Eive others were in equally deeperate condition. after carefully
digging them out, I stacked them in the basket like ears of corn,
making sure that I did not put one upon anothers head. I could
find no more so hastened home with my pathetic burden.
Once in the house, I put them on a blanket on the kitchen floor.
‘hey remained surprisingly quiet while being handled. I closed the
blinds to prevent their injuring themselves by flying against the
windows when they thawed, and directed Warm air upon them with an
electric fan to hurry the melting.
After a moment, several reached around to peek at the ice which
coated their backs and bound their wings to their sides. Some stood
motionless while others walked uncertainly about. I stood where I
could stop the fan with one hand and open the kitchen door with the
Suddenly, with a spattering of half—melted ice crystals, one fluffed
his Wings free and flew in bewildered sweeps about the confines of
the kitchen. 1hings became a little wild then. I Jerked the fan cord
and opened the door, then felt a tiny shower of ice as he flew past
me to freedom. Others excitedly walked toward the door, but I hastily
shut it again until, in a short time, they too regained the use of
their wings and the kitchen was aflutter with melting doves.
apparently none were affected by their distressing experience, for
the dove quota at the feeders seems about normal. I Was very pleased
at having reached them before they were discovered by roving predators.
I have rescued doves under similar circumstances in other years, and
am always surprised that they do not Seek better shelter during
such weather. Doves are lovely to look at am, their flight is
perfection, but their intelligence is far less than that of many
smaller birds.
Best Wishes to you all