How many swallows can a summer make?

The old saying is that one swallow doesn’t make a summer. This year, our challenge has been to see whether one summer could make six swallows. 

We’re the proud landlords of a fine, well-appointed and doubtless comfortable swallows’ nest over our front door.

A well appointed nest

I’m sorry. Scrub that. Let me start again.

We have the privilege of living in a house behind a highly desirable swallow residence. Its occupants tolerate our frequent appearances near their summer home. I should, however, underline that tolerance is not the same as enjoyment.

Last year, we were saddened that no swallows took advantage of that fine lodging to produce any fledglings. We’re not quite sure what we did wrong, but it must have been bad, because even though a few pairs of birds took a look at the place, none of them moved in or founded a family there.

This year was different. A pair took possession of the nest in late June. As far as progeny were concerned, however, nothing happened for an unconscionable time. We began to worry. 

“What, no eggs?” we asked each other with concern. 

But then Danielle researched the matter and discovered that the problem was simple: the nights were too cold and so there were too few mosquitoes. It seems that swallow fledglings have a predilection for the irritating insects, and there were simply not enough around for the parents to be able to guarantee them a good diet. 

Well, living as we do near Valencia in Spain, cool nights have now become a thing of the past, one that we very much miss. As for mosquitoes, they’re a wretched annoyance whenever we step out of doors. 

That only goes to show how what annoys one being may be a great benefit to another. A human’s pesky blood-sucking insect is a swallow’s source of essential nutrients. One man’s meat, as they say, is another man’s poison or, as a colleague once pointed out to me, one man’s fish is another man’s poisson. 

Our well-place cactus offers a convenient perch
Note the long tails of the adults

But, of course, there were plenty of other perches around

Once the couple in residence got going, they did a great job. There was a period of sitting on eggs and then, suddenly, three little heads would repeatedly appear at the edge of the nest, clamouring for food.

Hungry fledglings

The solution

We were so pleased that things were going well for our visitors that we decided to upgrade the quality of their accommodation by installing a fine new birdbath for them. That way they could drink from, or wash in, clean water. This struck us as a good alternative to the chlorinated water from the swimming pools they generally have to rely on around here. 

A swallow perched over the new bird bath

One of the fledglings managed to fall out on one occasion but, even though the advice from the ornithological establishment is not to interfere in the life (or death) of bird communities, I did pick up the sad little thing and return it to the nest. I was delighted to see it thrive thereafter.

They grew fast. Before long, they were undeniably birds, becoming if anything too big for their nest. 

Outgrowing their accommodation

Next we started to see adolescent birds, pretty much the size of adults though with shorter tails, beginning to fly around the place or perch on the nearby cactus, on the birdbath or on any convenient fitting projecting from the wall.

And, just because they were adolescent, didn’t mean they’d gone off being fed.

Why stop getting fed by adults if they're still willing?

Next the parents started all over again. Three more eggs. Three more fledglings. 

Sadly, we hit problems with one of them again. But this time there proved to be no solution. I found it on the ground more than once and put it back in the nest. So did my son Michael on at least one occasion while he was visiting. So did Danielle.

It didn’t work. There came a sad day when I had to lift a little lifeless body out of the nest. Mother Nature isn’t always the gentlest of parents.

The others did well, though. And it was amusing to see that their siblings from the first clutch kept coming back to the nest. Did they feed them? I’m not sure. But I do know that we would find them at night, perched near the nest, as though attached to their family home and perhaps dedicated to guarding the new young. 

Short-tailed adolescents enjoyed the cactus perch,
like their parents

And we had the answer to our question. At least as far as the family we know best is concerned, one summer couldn’t quite make six swallows. Still, it made five and I’ll settle for that.

And look forward to what next year may bring.