How six swallows are making our summer

One swallow, they say, doesn’t make a summer.

A whole bunch do, on the other hand. Especially since they turned up just as our rather grim spring was coming to an end and clear skies were taking over from the rain. From our first sighting of them, dipping into the river, as they do to scoop a little water to drink, it was only a matter of days before we had our own visitors again – and with them, the warm weather.

Let me say at once that I referred to them last year as house martins. Which are relatives of the swallows. But in fact, it seems, our yearly visitors really are swallows and not house martins at all.

When the fledgelings were small –
a parent dealing with their demands

We have a well-appointed nest under the roof affair over our porch. It’s been there for years, so in swallow terms it must have some of the prestige of a grand old stately home back in England. Perhaps a chateau on the Loire in France.

People have suggested to me that swallows come back to the same nest year after year. Well, I don’t know. Maybe they do. But the behaviour of the swallows in what I like to think of as ‘our’ nest tends to be so different from year to year, that I find it hard to imagine that it’s the same tenants each time.

What we think happens when they first show up is that they inspect desirable properties in the area. Not actually starting with an estate agent’s window, but in all other respects, like any couple (they tend to be in couples) looking for a home in a neighbourhood they’ve just moved to (or, in their case, returned to).

Just as with human homebuyers in a seller’s market, they then get into disputes. They argue. They get quite fierce with each other. They shout a bit and, let me tell you, when a swallow’s shouting, you know about it. Eventually, though, somebody gets in and occupies the place, and that’s it. The message goes out to the rest of the community. You didn’t get your offer in on time, or it wasn’t convincing enough, and now the place is theirs.

The lighter bits show the extent of this year’s extension

That’s how our visitors this year got their nest. And then they behaved just like new homeowners anywhere. They’d no sooner moved in than they engaged in some serious house improvements, extending the nest upwards a fair bit. They got the work completed in a surprisingly short time. But then, this pair seemed rather bigger and, I suspect, stronger than the ones we’ve met in the past.

Once they got down to the serious business of adding to the swallow population, we understood why the extension had been necessary. These two weren’t going to make do with just two fledgelings, or even three. Nothing short of four would do for them.

No wonder they needed the extra nursery space.

Six swallows right over our front door. It was great fun, with only one downside: there’s rather a lot of what I suppose we can call ‘guano’ deposited under the nest. We put down sheets of cardboard to catch the droppings, but this year we did have to change them rather more often than in the past.

As before, they weren’t at all pleased at our insistence on continuing to live in the bit of the house we consider our home, as opposed to theirs. That’s the bit behind the nest. Above all, they resented our refusal to stop using the front door. This year’s swallows are significantly bolder than last year’s (see what I mean about probably not being the same ones?). On several occasions, we’ve each had a swallow diving down over our heads, nearly colliding with us, and then shooting up to the edge of the nest to land on it, with that perfect timing that means they reach their perch just as their flight ends. Though, in some cases when their boldness ran out, they didn’t complete the journey, but flew off again instead.

On one occasion, the same swallow – parent, I assume, bringing food back to the fledgelings – tried to get past me three times. I must have been too close to the nest, because each time it turned and flew away again. Then it perched on a telephone cable overheard and chattered at me. Again, let me stress that when a swallow’s chattering at you, you know you’ve been chattered at.

I’m no more fluent in Swallow than I was in the past, but I’m certain I was being told I was a complete oaf – if not something worse – and had no business standing there looking threatening, right by the nest, so would I please go away? Well, I say ‘go away’, though I think the real request was being phrased in the Swallow equivalent of some much saltier Anglo-Saxon expression. 

Fledgelings nearly ready to fly
Trust me, there really is a fourth

It’s been fun having them and we’ve enjoyed it. And, if you’re surprised at my use of the past tense, that’s only because the fledgelings are now leaving the nest during the day and only coming back at night. I’m sure it won’t be long before they literally fly the nest for good. 

Then the big question will be, will the parents pull off the same trick another pair managed a couple of years ago, and have a second clutch?

We await their decision with suspenseful excitement. And, if you’re as keen to know as we are, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to keep you fully up to date.