I have moved my domicile many times, and have lived in
places as far afield as the north of Scotland
at the one extreme and South Africa’s
Eastern Cape
at the other. That’s where I live now, with my American wife, two white shepherds
and two domestic cats. One of the greatest joys of living nearly ten miles from
the nearest tarmac road is the plethora of wild birds, and here on the farm we
have a good cross section of them. Our more common visitors are the Blackeyed
Bulbul, the Fiscal Shrike and the Hoopoe, although I have listed some
thirty-odd species seen on our 18 acres farm at the end of this article. Today
I want to write about just one pair of birds, because they are our favourite.
When Liz and I moved into Martindale Farm in 2005, there
were the dried mud foundations of a swallow’s nest up under an overhanging
porch. It was not until November of 2010 that a pair of Lesser Striped Swallows started rebuilding this mud home,
laboriously flying back and forth with small mud balls in their tiny beaks
until after some four weeks they had rebuilt a perfect nest, the main “living
quarters” being some 15cms across where it joined the wall, tapering down into
a 20cm long tunnel that served as the entrance, the whole nest being some 35cms
from wall to entrance. While building the nest the pair had used our Christmas
lights, which were strung along the front of the porch, as a perch. By mid
December the pair had finished their home and were busy lining it with bits of
dog hair (our shepherds were molting) and feathers shed by our free-range hens.
I was loathe to pull down the lights after the ten-day
Christmas period of grace ended, but when I did, I replaced the perch with a
thick piece of heavy-duty electric wire, which they soon became used to, as did
their three babies, soon to be hatched. As the end of summer approached in
early 2011, our pair and their offspring took of for climes unknown, presumably
somewhere in Europe.
This year the pair returned, and one morning in early
October we found the main living quarters of the nest lying broken on the
concrete stoep, leaving only 20cms of the tunnel intact. It is now mid
November, and a few days ago the pair began rebuilding their home, advancing
the walls a few millemetres a day. There is still a wide gap between the “work
in progress” and the inner end of the tunnel, but after dark we have seen their
tail feathers protruding from the tunnel, which must be where they are
roosting. We have come to know their small talk to each other as they perch on
their wire, and we are now once more looking forward to the pitter patter of
tiny feet.