And if you find yourself painting Christmas baubles in July then it helps that it feels like November around here. Rain, fog, puddles, wet. The uncomfortable feeling of water-that-is-not-beach-water between the toes when flip flops are bravely worn. A frequent desire to be sitting in front of a fire. The wistful holding up of bathing outfits that are raring to get out into the light of day, even if my belly isn’t quite so sure. That’s OK. It’s all going to change around any day now! (Both the weather and my belly.)
To tide me over, today I caught the first glimpse of a baby swallow in the nest by my front door. I’ve been worrying about that family. If it’s too wet the mom and dad can’t fly around to catch enough bugs for the babies. I could tell about a week ago that at least one egg had hatched because dad waited impatiently for me to get out of my car, and then chattered and sang and burbled much more than his usual hello. The swallow equivalent of handing me a cigar and telling me how it had all gone.
After that I could see that both parents were bringing bugs to the nest and leaning in from the side instead of just covering up. And they were taking stuff away from the nest too. Poop stuff. Ew!! That right there is the main reason I’m glad I’m not a bird parent!! That’s also the downside of having a nest by my front door. When the babies are little the parents swoop poop away and drop it on my driveway. Sort of yuck. When they get bigger and the parents tell them that they’re all done with that particular parental show of love they back their butts over the edge and drop it right there. Definite yuck! Growing pile of yuck. Sigh.
But I love this little extended bird family. They’ve been coming to that nest for about 7 summers. I assume that one of the parents this year was probably one of the babies last year or maybe a couple of years ago, but since every summer there have been two families raised, and four to five babies each time, that’s a lot of swallows potentially looking to return to the old homestead. I wonder how they figure out who gets it.
As I said, I love this little bird family very much, not just the latest crew but every bunch so far. They seem to be a group of quiet, peaceful little souls. Not when their parents are bringing them snacks, mind you. Then they get raucous and pushy, shoot their heads up and their beaks open and yell and dive on top of each other to be the one who gets fed. But in between deliveries, when they’re big enough that I can see them well, they sit and look at me so calmly as I come and go. I always talk to the parents when they’re on the eggs (“Hey mama, how’s it going? How are your babies coming?”) so maybe they hatch recognizing my voice. They all look down quietly at me as I speak to them, and when a bug goes past they all swing their heads and look at it, not making a sound, and once I saw them all watching a little lizard run past on the ground. Completely silent, just checking things out. My bird kindred spirits.
But that was a week ago and I had yet to hear the peeping or see a head, and was just getting a little worried. Until today. Whoa, they are not born gorgeous, are they? Never mind. I love them and am hoping it’s going OK up there, and that the weather will have enough dry moments to keep them fed and warm and happy. Because I want that looks-challenged baby I saw today, and hopefully his siblings beneath him, to grow into a group like this one, from a year or two ago! Have a thought for baby #5 in this group! He’s having a hard day!