My first “Speaking of Nature” column was published on May 17, 1997. In that time I have covered so many of the birds, trees, flowers, insects and mammals of our area, but I have always tried to find something new to talk about when returning to “old friends.” This year, I celebrated the 23rd anniversary of my column in a most unexpected, but rewarding fashion with a very old friend.
I woke early on that Sunday morning, turned the page in my red field journal that I keep on the desk by my kitchen window, and I saw that I had commented on the importance of the day when pre-loading almanac information into its pages. Had I not taken the time to do that I would most likely have gone about my day without realizing its “importance.”
It was a beautiful day and I had decided to spend some of my time working on soothing, familiar chores around the yard. I cleaned out corners of the garage, I mowed a portion of the lawn and I tidied up my workbench. It was quiet and lovely and the smell of sawdust was enhanced by the slightest whiff of gasoline that is a common perfume in any workshop.
As I was moving about I happened to catch sight of a flutter of wings out in the grass by the driveway. I stopped to give this event my full attention and was delighted to see a tree swallow sitting in the grass. My lawn had been damaged earlier this year by a large truck delivering a dumpster. We were having our roof replaced and all those shingles needed to go somewhere. Unfortunately, the truck went the wrong way and sank down to its back axle in the soft soil.
The repairs to this damage included grass seed and a generous coating of straw to give the new grass seedlings some shelter. Sadly, we had ridiculously cold weather through April and May and the grass never stood a chance. However, the straw was still there sheltering nothing. This, it seems, was an irresistible resource for the swallows in my yard and first the male, then the female had come down to investigate.
Swallows are awkward on the ground. Their tiny legs seem somewhat inadequate for terrestrial activities and grass that is just a couple days overdue for mowing can give them a hard time. I watched the birds select their bits of straw and fly off, I chuckled to myself and then went about my business. The next time I looked out of the garage I saw them again and it continued long enough that I had time to remember that I was actually a wildlife photographer with a nice camera sitting on my desk by the kitchen window.
So, I went inside, grabbed my gear and set up shop just inside my garage door. I have an old swivel desk chair in my garage for rainy days and this was perfect for waiting for swallows. I didn’t have to wait long and I was delighted with the results. I was able to capture “intimate” photos of a female tree swallow working on one of the most important of her domestic chores.
Before humans took such an interest in tree swallows and before we started offering them manmade luxury homes simply for the pleasure of having them near, tree swallows nested in — you guessed it — trees. I imagine that old woodpecker holes were the favorite nesting sites, but I am sure that “natural” cavities that resulted from injury and rot were just as good.
The cavities (natural or manmade) need lining and tree swallows prefer light, soft grasses with which they fashion a soft, cup-shaped nest. Then, to make the nest even more luxurious, tree swallows always incorporate some feathers. I have a neighbor down the road that keeps chickens and the nest that my swallows made out of straw has been lined with chicken feathers. In other places that I’ve lived there has been water nearby and somehow the swallows were always able to find the curly iridescent tail feathers of male mallards. The female swallow is the one that does most of the nest building, but the male will help out a little.
Eventually the nest will contain 3-4 beautiful white eggs that will hatch into adorable little swallows. My nest boxes are built with front panels that open and when I check on the nest I often find myself being glared at by a female swallow that refuses to budge. Only later, when the chicks are a little older, will I open the box to find the young swallows begging for food. Just days before they fledge, the little swallows adopt their mother’s glare and then one day they are gone.
So, for the first time in 23 years I have found myself in a position where I could capture photos of a small facet of tree swallow life. What tomorrow will bring is a mystery, but it is a wonderful mystery that makes the life of a naturalist a lifelong adventure.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 23 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service and the Massachusetts State Parks and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.