I’ve been
creating “things” in my ‘monkey-mind’, and some of those have materialised in a
tangible form. I think I need another blog for those, but then I can’t seem to
get to this one, so having two might be a double whammy.
I have been
breathing in the Durban
spring, and we have had rain and sweet grey skies for a few weeks. Today the
sun has recovered, and the humidity seethes and swaggers in typical Durban style. The summer
is on its way and it isn’t my favourite time of the year. The curries seem hotter,
sleeping is a torment, sweat is the order of the day, and it is joined by
mosquitoes at night, but it is my Durban
and I will find some grace in the long days spent in the furnace.
The leaves
on many of the trees are luminous in the light today, still thin in their
newness, or copper before the green returns. The yellow-billed kites returned in August, and it is a joy to see them command the sky.
The
swallows too, have returned, as they always do. “Our pair”, has been sitting on
the phone line outside my door and making sweet “tchrits tchrits”. They have
flown into the house and out again as they always do, and I consider this my
gentle summer blessing.
These
little lesser striped swallows have had such a dilemma, and I guess I should
give some background to their saga. They have been here every year for the 27
years I have been living here. There were two nests to start with, one in the
front, and one at the back of the house. Works of art, spat and patted upon and
worked with extraordinary patience into brown-hued mud “huts” with tunnels.
Through the years the swallows have been duped out of their nests by white-rumped swifts who have thrown them out and taken up residence in a home they
didn’t have the patience to build themselves (it takes a long time catching little bits of grass and fluff in the air to pad a nest). The swifts are wily, rather
wondrous birds. They are built for speed and they are just a blur as they rivet
straight into the tiny tunnel of a nest. They are unable to perch as their feet
are useless. I guess evolution has not seen a need for perching feet in a bird that
usually makes a nest on a cliff face and throws itself into the air. Swifts are
aerodynamic machines flying thousands of miles without alighting. Swifts do
most things on the wing, drinking, feeding, collecting nesting material, and
are the only birds known to mate in flight. There have been a few times that
they have landed on the ground, perhaps fallen from a nest when learning to fly,
and I threw them up to freedom.
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| this photo taken by Johan Grobelaar | http://www.outdoorphoto.co.za/gallery/showphoto.php?photo=92973&title=white-rumped-swift&cat=500 |
I’ve had
some moments of questioning nature and the ‘niceness’ of swifts, especially
when the swallows return each year to the nest they built, and after a month
the swifts evict them yet again. We had some alterations done to our house a
few years ago and the swifts took great exception to this and moved along,
allowing the swallows a few years of being at home. Speaking of builders, when
they were here (the human builders), a swallow flew into the house and became
disorientated, and I became distraught trying to encourage it out before “THE
TART” (our dachshund, she’s material for another post) devoured it whole (she
can).
One of the
builders said he would help and I was so grateful, until he took up his broom
and started swatting at the swallow as it flew in circles, bumping into the
ceiling. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was in no way a saviour, and
he should put down his weapon as I wanted the bird flying skyward not in a
twitching heap on the bedroom floor. He looked at me aghast. I could see him
thinking “ungrateful cow”, or worse. He was stripped of his shining armour and
became surly and wounded, saying, “Okay, I won’t help then”. The bird did not
leave the house but I couldn’t see where it had gone. I was worried beyond
words and re-arranged the house looking for the
little guy. Hours later, when I was outside, I saw the swallow clinging to the
back of the curtain in my bedroom. Relief and joy flooded over me and I was able
to release him into the late afternoon sky, and my blessing was intact.
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| look at that mud filled beak! |
A few years
ago I was washing the verandah wall (why would I do that? I’m not normally that
way inclined) and some of the spray must have dampened the nest and it began to fall (clay isn’t what it used to be it seemed). I stood there
horrified, and in need of a Valium. What
had I done to this painstaking work of art and home to my visitors? I found a
piece of leather and hot glued it around the nest to keep it intact. Needless
to say, the swallows didn’t like it at all and, after celebrating the departure
of the swifts, the swallows still had no nest. They decided to build on the
alarm siren (at this point I’m starting to think they are the ones who invented
the term bird-brained). Well, I couldn’t have them build on the siren, as it
would have had them shell-shocked when it went off in screaming decibels. We
covered the siren with a plastic bag and so they began the building in another
corner of the ceiling. This time they managed to build a rather unstable, but
suitable nest in which to raise two beautiful young swallows, that took flight
and survived to the great dismay of the snake-eyed “Tart”.
In the next
year, for some misguided reason, they decided the entrance to the nest needed
lengthening and added wet mud to the dried mud of the previous year’s
structure…. clay/mud shrinks as it dries and they built it to the size of the
existing tunnel so, once it had dried, it became too narrow to fit through. The following year, when they returned, I noticed them battling to enter the
nest. Sadly, I discovered a baby had become stuck in the narrowed entrance and
had died. I removed the feathered bones and chiselled off a bit of the 'tunnel'
to make it wider. They didn’t like that either, so they didn’t breed last year
although they spent a great deal of time circling the verandah.
In
September they returned, gave the blessing, and started building a nest on the
siren AGAIN! The siren was re-covered in a bag, and I gave them a talking to. I
told them that I am overjoyed to have them choose my home to build their home,
but they needed to stop being push-overs and to wise up, because it was just
getting silly. I then took down the leather-bound nest and sprayed down the
narrow-tunnelled nest that was stressing them out and was now useless. I felt
so guilty, but they had seemed to be so frustrated with these nests they didn’t
approve of and wouldn’t use. After a few days of circling and ‘tchritsing’
endlessly, they came with mud and started fixing it to the wall where the
original nest had been…. their place of choice before their eviction by swifts. The
architect wasn’t present quite obviously, because the mud was spotted all over,
above and below the corner. Then they had a light-bulb moment and followed the "mud sketch": on the ceiling made by the original nest (see below)
Finally it started to take a cup form and was on track.
The pair worked tirelessly, following the plan and creating their home.
Before
building the entrance tunnel, they brought grass and feathers (dropping many bits below the nest and then going off to find more).
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| before the entrance tunnel was built |
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| what a mouthful! |
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building the tunnel! |
Once it was padded and soft
enough the perfect entrance tunnel was built. Hopefully they don't decide to make additions to it.
I am hoping this nest is stable and will be suitable for a good few years from now. I will not be washing the wall (ever), and if I see a swift needling its way towards the nest, I will be ready with the broom, that’s if I am swift enough.(you know me better than that though)
She flits and dips.
Makes a small rip in the sky.
A tiny tear
in the fabric.
Only she
sees the other side.
Heaven for a brief moment.
A swallow and her sky.
J M Kisch
If you would like to hear their “tchrits tchrits” you can
hear their call here http://www.productiontrax.com/sound-effects/305895
