Rural Darwinism

I blogged too soon: this morning the nest in the porthole above my desk was empty. Yesterday the adult ring doves were flying around the property alone. I walked round to the field outside & examined the ground below the porthole - usually the hunting ground of the cat that belongs to the Born-Again-Plumbers down the road. No feathers, no sign of struggle or death on the ground, but I fear that this bird has not flown . . .