Geese seem to fly over my neck of the woods all year long, but when I hear them honking I always run out and look. (Up.) Assuming I'm dressed, of course. Lately, though, flocks of them have flown over my roof so often that I'm almost blasť about it. It's like the turkeys last fall. At first I couldn't get enough of them, and then I was all "Ho hum, gobble gobble."
I've noticed more doves closer to the house than at any time since I've lived here. I didn't know they ran in such big numbers, but at times I can open the back door and see dozens of them take sudden wing from the walnut tree at the corner of the yard. This must be a temporary situation, because ordinarily they show up two at a time and no more. (There's just a smidgen of a chance they're not doves, or not the same mourning doves I'm used to. I really do need new glasses.)
The robins are unmistakable, though. You can't confuse an American robin with any other species. The funny thing is, while the doves are here in unusually high numbers, the robins, who ordinarily attack the worms on these wet days in squadrons of a dozen or so at a time, are showing up in ones and twos. I don't think I've seen more than a couple of robins in any one day in the several weeks I've been noticing them.