For years now we have had a family of swallows that arrives
late April as the welcome harbingers of summer. They build their nests in our
underground communal garage, every year their number increasing, and more nests
join the old along the pipes and stuck precariously on the walls.
I absolutely love the swallows, in fact I
think all of us who share the garage do. (I suspect the cats are quite partial to
them too).
They make the direst mess on
the floor, and the pipes are covered in poo where their little nests rest, but
for sheer grace, and death-defying dives they are splendid to watch.
And death-defying divers they are!
How they all frantically dip and swoop in
over the cars as we drive down the ramp and into the garage.
It’s like being at Pearl Harbour when the
Japanese attacked.
They go absolutely
berserk, and then as you get out of the car they rush round in circles and
then
out the gate trying to persuade you
to leave the garage (like you were planning to stay there all day
anyway!).
Once their brood has left the nest they perch
on the telephone lines.
Now and again there are causalities. Either a
baby bird falls out of the nest and doesn’t survive, or falls and gets under
the wheels of a car, or into the clutches of a cat.
This year though we’ve had an unusual drama
to contend with.
Driving into the garage
the other day I saw ahead of me a small dark heap in the middle of the garage
floor.
Having parked the car I walked
closer to investigate and was horrified to see this.
I couldn’t understand why the entire load of
fledglings was crowded together in the centre of the garage. Then looking up I
understood why.
Their nest, which has
been used for many years had crumbled under their weight and broken, and they
had obviously tumbled out.
Meanwhile the
entire adult community of swallows was going crazy, flapping noisily around the
garage to distract my attention, and as I stepped away, now and then dipping in
to feed one of the youngsters.
Our neighbours all have large cars, and the thought of them
all getting squashed was to much to bear, so I and one of my neighbours tried
to persuade them into a box so we could move them to a relatively safe corner
of the garage. Instead they all panicked
and fled, two managing to take off and fly away, the other three to opposite
corners of the garage. However we decided
that at least they were out of harm’s way for the time being and left them for
the adults to round up and calm down. The next day the clever adults had shepherded the little ones behind a box by the wall. A day later, another (unknown) neighbour had installed them into an open box on the wall and the adults were still caring for them. This morning just two remain in the box, looking in good health as the adults continue to feed them.
I just hope the cats don't find them. Meanwhile the rest are now in position on the telephone lines.
Once the little ones can fend for themselves, they will sit outside on the lines, and stay there for the rest of the summer. Then one day we'll return home from somewhere at the beginning of September and suddenly
realise with a sinking heart they aren’t there anymore and winter is coming
L
