"Look at that poor thing," my daughter said, pointing at a twig-toting dove that hovered by a birdhouse in our back yard. "She can't fit through the hole."

The large-bottomed bird was having little luck fitting much more than her beak into the house. I felt an immediate swell of compassion. I've been there, feathered sister. I know your pain.

That same morning, I'd tried to fit into last summer's shorts. The dove stood a better chance fitting through the nugget-sized door.

"It's not fair that birdhouses have such tiny holes," said Celeste. "I bet she's feeling just like you get when you're going through a clearance rack filled with nothing but 3s."

My girl knows just which buttons to push. We soon were shopping for a bigger, better birdhouse.

We came back empty-handed.

"Can't we just build one?" Celeste asked.

"Can't we just drill a bigger hole in the old one?"

"But the entire house is too small," she said.

"Explain that to the dove," I said. "What kind of self-respecting bird is she anyway? She should be collecting sticks and doing that whole nature thing, not trying to freeload housing from a stranger."

"I'll go with you to ReStore to get wood," Celeste said.

Like I said, she knows which of my buttons to push. I'm addicted to ReStore (where Habitat for Humanity sells new and used building materials). I make regular visits hoping to find just the right treasures to make possible - and affordable - one of the many projects on my wish list of renovations.

She went with me. We got wood. Enough to build a birdhouse large enough for a beagle.

I said beagle, not eagle, although I admit that it's close. We didn't rein in our enthusiastic compassion for pudgy birds until we'd reached a point nearing the ridiculous. A family of homeless geese has been gathering to monitor our progress. And I suspect more than a few people will pass by and wonder why we have a crooked doghouse on a pole in our yard.

When it came time to decide what size hole to cut in our birdhouse, I went online to look for information. I found a chart listing hole dimensions and house hanging heights for a large variety of birds.

Doves weren't on the list.

Turns out they prefer open-ended nesting shelves.

I shared the news with Celeste.

"That's probably just because the holes are never big enough," she said as she lined up a roll of masking tape on the birdhouse and traced the inside circle to serve as the door.

I felt a bit silly, but I obliged. Our birdhouse soon had a big, crooked opening that coordinated well with our waggly windows.

After it was fully assembled, although not yet painted, we stepped back to admire our structure. A birdhouse that was, quite obviously, constructed by loons.

"We did a good thing," my girl said proudly.

"We sure did," I said.

Karin Fuller can be reached via e-mail at karinful...@cnpapers.com">karinful...@cnpapers.com. Her columns can be accessed easily online through her blog at thegazz.com.