Foiling the Birds

 

I don't like combatting birds, but I have often attempted to do so.  I have stuffed chicken wire into nooks and crannies on the house to deter the English House Sparrows when my father was about to blow a gasket in frustration with them.   I carefully pulled apart the growing Cardinal nest when my mother was afraid it was within swiping reach of the neighborhood cats.

After my parents died, I made numerous treks to Michigan to clear out the big old house.   One hot summer evening I arrived with a backache and a bottle of Jim Beam after a thousand mile drive.   A clatter that sounded like some Victorian mechanical contraption interrupted my first cocktail.   I crept about as if startled by an intruder, searching for the alarming noise.

Research on the computer told me that Chimney Swifts had taken up residence in the chimney and had a hatch of babies.   After learning about their declining numbers I knew that I would not disturb them.   My affection grew by the day for the mechanical-sounding clamor of the babies when the parents returned with food.   I took coffee breaks by the fireplace so that I could hear them.   As I cleared debris out the house I would pause to watch the parents zipping through the sky above the roofline.   In the evening I sat in the garden arbor and listened to their twittering.   They very much were company for me as I rattled around a house grown strange with human ghosts and the household collections  of 46 years.

I am asked what to do about the pesky birds at the farm.  The swallows are determined to get the best places for their nests.  

A wily cat who opens the screen door to let himself out lets in a Swallow, who perches on the ceiling fan and inspects the top of the built-in china cabinet while the lady of the house tries to shoo it out.   Denied the home's attractive interior, they carry little daubs of mud to the window ledge outside the front door despite the brightly colored Christmas ribbons tacked up to discourage them.   I press wrinkled sheets of aluminum foil to the window ledge as further deterrents.

This morning as we have coffee on the porch the Swallows swoop in and see the foil.   They swoop out and light on the gravel drive, three of them, chattering and facing the porch.   It is hard to not imagine their vexation.

The Phoebes and their nest . . . now, that is another story altogether. Stay tuned.