Swallow tales

Mixed flock of Purple Martins and Swallows on anentena in Naicam last fall. Margaret Madsen photo

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who build up and those who tear down.

A number of years ago when we were in Holland, we met our son-in-law Tony's uncle, Bernard, a Catholic monk or brother. The monastery where he lived was in a beautiful park area that included an operating farm which also served as a retreat/summer camp for young people. Brother Bernard was in charge of the little herd of dairy cattle. While showing us around the farm, he paused to add water to a small puddle beside the barn. By keeping the mud damp, he was assisting a pair of Barn Swallows building their nest. These avian engineering architects use mud to affix their adobe-like nests to perpendicular surfaces. St. Francis of Assisi would have definitely approved of Brother Bernard.

Then there was the unfortunate pair of swallows who chose to build their nest above the bedroom window of the old couple who lived one door down across the street. From my favorite perch on our front steps, I had watched for several days as the energetic little birds flitted back and forth from a mud puddle at the intersection toting tiny beaksful of mortar to glue to their nest.

My heart was in my throat when the cleaning lady who comes regularly to help the old couple decided to wash the outside windows. I saw her hesitate about the nest over the window, then ignore it and go on with washing glass. I called my thanks to her and she just laughed and shrugged. "Well, they worked so hard and and it's not hurting anything there," she said.

Shortly after, the old couple's daughter and son-in-law came from out of province for a visit and to help with some yard work. First thing they did was knock down the nest and wash the remnants of mud from the siding.

Like I said, some people build up and some knock down.

Okay, okay, before you get your shirt in a knot, I can understand that Barn Swallows nesting over your bedroom window might get a bit messy, especially if there is a wind blowing houseward while there's bathroom business underway from the lip of the nest.

Almost every summer after we built the new barn in BC, Barn Swallows chose to set up housekeeping on the first rafter inside the west door. We always left the west doors at least partially open in the summer to allow whatever cooling breeze might be coming up from the lake. The swallows certainly didn't bother us, although for those weeks after the chicks hatched and until they left the nest, one had to be sure not to walk directly under the nest but to detour around the pile of droppings that accumulated on the floor beneath it. A surprise deposit in one's hair was not pleasant.