For the past two days, the female and male swallows have been trying to coax their young ones out of the nest. For two days, I’ve watched with fascination.
Daddy bird sits next to the nest on one of the porch lights,
flapping his wings, as if to show these babies how they must fly.
The little ones are curious.
They peek out of the nest, looking downward. They stretch their wings. They even get brave enough to stand on the
edge of the nest. Still . . . they won’t
leave.
Today, I made the decision that I would brave their mother’s
wrath, and went out onto the porch to clean up the poop. What a mess.
Like white, sticky mud.
Admittedly, I had to duck numerous times as Mamma bird dive-bombed
me. I’m trying to live in peace with
her. But Lordy, she is protective.
The dove is much more tolerant of me. She is still nesting in the ivy and as far as
I can tell, no babies have yet hatched. She calmly watched me as I cleaned up her poop today too.
Much less messy than the swallows, and at least the dove has the good
sense to lean her butt over the nest and poop on the driveway. In general, dove poop is just easier to
clean. Almost like pellets. A sweep of the broom – and it’s gone.
Really. It’s time for
these baby swallows to fly. I love watching them but I want my front yard back
and I want a clean porch again. Come on
little ones. Stretch those wings. Go explore that big, beautiful world of ours.
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