an eggcorn in a pear tree

No one would ever confuse me with St. Francis of Assisi.

I wear too many clothes for that role. Usually. But my house is quickly turning into an animal sanctuary, and I have become a protector of some creatures I would have readily chased off in the past.

Yesterday, as I was entering the library, I noticed a small lump of debris in front of the sliding glass door. I put the plate I was carrying on a table and went back to clean up whatever was disturbing the order of the patio. Something one of the turkey vulture neighbors had dropped, I thought.

When I went back out, the "debris" had moved. It wasn't until I bent over and had a closer look that I realized it was not a piece of detritus; it was a young ground dove. And I knew where it had come from.

About two years ago, a ground dove couple had set up nest-keeping in the vines in front of Omar and Yoana's bedroom. Several generations of doves have popped out of the vines since.

It was obvious that this little guy had left the protection of the vines far too early. He needed to go back home.

Of course, small birds do not distinguish between the kindness of strangers and the wiles of predators. When you are that low on the food chain, you are a potential meal for almost everything.

When I reached for it, he feebly flew away. I ended up chasing him around most of the patio until he simply resigned himself to his fate and let me pick him up. Back in the nest he went.

It was not until this morning that I noticed that he is not alone. He is one of three doves in the vines. They made me smile. But they also made me start humming a song. "The Twelve Days of Christmas" -- with its litany of bird and shrubbery references.

Because my mind works like this, the song reminded me that it contains one of my favorite eggcorns.

If you have not heard the word before, you should remember it. It is useful. We encounter (and often create) eggcorns daily.

An eggcorn is a word or phrase that is mistakenly used for another word or phrase because it sounds similar and seems logical or plausible. And some of them make just as much (or more) sense than the original.

The word came about because some people called "acorns" "eggcorns." They look like eggs -- and they are essentially the eggs of oak trees.

We all know them when we hear them (and often mistakenly use them ourselves).

• "another think coming" 
• "platemats" 
• "takes two to tangle" 
• "wet your appetite" 
• "take it for granite" 
• "one foul swoop" i
• "death nail" 

But none of those eggcorns were the object of my dove-watching. "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is chock-a-block with birds. Partridge. Turtle doves. French hens. Geese. Swans.

And then there is verse four where my true love sends to me four "calling birds." I always found that phrase a bit odd. It is true that 19th century Brits referred to songbirds as calling birds. But it turns out "calling birds" is an eggcorn.

The original lyrics refer to four "colly birds." That word sounds a bit foreign to us because it has gone out of general service. "Colly" derives from "collier." A reference to coal mining. Black as coal. Thus, a blackbird.

So, there you have it. Eggcorn. A new word that you can slip into your leisurely conversations in Mexico.

And here is another. "Crash blossoms." We will discuss it next week when the subject of deadly chipmunks will be on the plate.

But, now, I must put on my monkly robes, and go tend to the animals -- before they decide I am lower on the food chain than they are.