Swallows

I grew up out in the country, and every spring, we could almost mark it on the calendar in mid-March the barn swallows showed up.  They came, we believe from Central America and returned to our house each year, raising one or two hatchings before leaving in July.  We imagined they were the same ones that returned to us each year, but of course we have no way to know for sure.  Did they seek out where they were born?  Where did they go when the left us?  I only wish I could speak to them.

We relished the days that arrived, excited of the possibilities they brought.  They built mud nests on just about every corner of our front porch they could find.  Of course, it made a mess, and their digested droppings on the floor were not attractive, but because they raised their young so close to our windows, we watched their amazing progress from the first glance of a fuzzy head sticking up, to the babies waiting eagerly with mouths open for the parents to return a tasty meal and then, as they cautiously took their first flight out of the nest.  The day we looked out and saw empty nests and didn't hear their familiar chatter was always a sad one, knowing that our friends had left us until the next season.

Then, several years ago, they didn't come.  We're not sure why, and we've questioned if we did something that offended them.  But alas, we have not seen their familiar flapping or heard that familiar chirping at the farm in years.  The underside of a bridge at Lake Martin we frequently drive under is cluttered with mud nest after mud nest, and I always gaze up in appreciation and wonder at how these little creatures managed to create such an extensive colony.

Dubrovnik was absolutely full of swallows.  It was one of the first things we noticed from atop our rooftop terrace.  Each morning and each evening, the sky would be full of the swarms of birds, seemingly as numerous as the stars that filled the night sky.  Sure, we heard some travelers say they felt like The Birds, but for the three of us, it felt like a welcome we had been missing out on for years.

It turns out that Dubrovnik actually has a bit of a history with the swallows.  Years ago, when they were building the city, they left small holes to put logs for a sort of scaffolding.  They had intended to come back and fill them in, but the people noticed that the birds were using them as homes.  At first, they felt there were a nuisance and did their best to scare away the birds.  But, the residents also noticed that when the birds were around, the bugs were fewer, and I must admit that I did not see a single mosquito in Dubrovnik, so I feel they were doing something right.

Yes, there were plenty of pigeons and seagulls in this coastal city, and even a few squawking blackbirds.  It was these creatures, who one morning when they were being terribly obnoxious, we noticed one of our neighbors open his window, and instead of clap and yell at the birds, he flapped a stuffed tiger at it.  That's all it took to turn the unpleasant noise back into the gentle chirping of the swallows.

The swallows are here, in Motovun, too, but I'm afraid they have a bit more work to do as the mosquitoes are prolific.  But the joy they bring to all three of us, and the inkling of home is such a nice treat.  And it seems, that even though the people do not speak the same languages in different countries, the swallows continue their gentle chirping.