You've got to admire the male Collared Dove. At the moment the weather is glacial, it's cold enough out there to freeze the balls off a buffalo, and yet, on the back lawn yesterday morning, I watched a male Collared Dove getting amorous with an uncooperative female. There he was, racing after her, testosterone-charged, puffing out his chest and attempting to do the business, Stringfellow-style, and to hell with the foreplay.
For goodness' sake, even in my prime, I needed warm sunshine and a gentle zephyr to caress my bum before I'd even think of tripping the light fantastic with a lady. But this dove is made of sterner stuff. He's totally oats-oriented, frost or no frost.
At least Mrs Collared Dove has the sense to make him keep it in his pants till the weather improves.