When I was growing up, a pair of swallows nested in our back porch for a number of years. The kitchen window provided a perfect view of them swooping and swooshing when they came and left the nest. There was a good few years then when they didn’t return.
About three or four years ago, another pair of swallows (we’re assuming they’re not the same birds) started nesting in the back porch again. They went about their business as we were accustomed to, until last year when one of them was taken by a hawk. The other bird waited to see if it’s mate was going to return, but in the end it disappeared. We’re not sure if it migrated, was taken, or something else entirely.
We assumed this was the end of our seasonal visitors again, but low and behold a pair of swallows returned to Sallyhene this year and I had the pleasure of seeing their chicks last night. From our position it looked like there were only two chicks in the nest, but they must have been a bit spooked by our presence and four flew out of the nest. One flew into the kitchen and my mother, not being a fan of our feathered friends had a minor panic attack.
These panic attacks were quite common when we were younger as all sorts of birds entered our house, even our pet hen (Queenie) who used walk up from her coop in the little grove beside the house, in the front door, down the hall, and then peck at herself in the mirror in my parent’s bedroom.
Birds were also brought into the house of course. When I was six or seven, I saw a wood pigeon on the ground behind the shed. I went over to inspect it and noticed it couldn’t fly away. So I caught the bird and brought it inside the house to nurse it. When my Dad got home from work, he told me it was only a chick (a bloody big one from what I remember) and that it must have fallen out of it’s nest. So we put a heavy box on the roof of our pumphouse with some grass and water, and left the chick in there. A few days later it was gone. At the time I assumed it had grown up enough to fly away, but thinking back it could easily have been taken.
Bats also took a liking to our house. I remember that my Dad was away once and I was called upon to remove the bat, otherwise the poor thing would have had a close encounter with a hurley. So I got my Dad’s landing net and swooped around the bedroom until I caught him.
As you may gather, my mother has had ample time to develop her dislike of indoor encounters with our flying friends.
Last night her minor panic attack was induced by the swallow chick that flew through the back door into the kitchen and landed behind the clock on the window sill. This was lucky as it made capture very straight forward. I could barely feel the weight in my hands, but I could feel it’s heart going like a jackhammer. Ellie declined to touch it’s head, we’ve discovered she’s a distance based inquisitor, so I brought it back to the porch and released it.
I know it’s not exactly David Attenborough stuff, but it was very cool nonetheless. Here’s a photo I took of the nest last year.
