Piper, six-and-a-half kilos of ex-feral tom, has a bird
problem. He’s been stalking swallows, by hanging out close to a
nest, and now the swallows are fighting back. Poor Piper got spooked
and abandoned the hunt when they started dive-bombing his ears. Now
he just runs for cover. It was very funny, until the little
feathered devils started doing it to me.
The nest (one of many around the farm) is tucked up
under the eaves of the old stables, just outside the door of the old
tack room where we keep the geese over night. Before the eggs
hatched, I would get the sudden flick and flap above my head every
time I walked underneath and a swallow took off, nought to whatever
crazy speed they reach in seconds. Now that they have hatched, the
parents zoom in, feed and zoom back out.
They are busy little birds – we have photos from about
two weeks back, taken from inside the tack room. The parents came in
and attended to the lone, wide beak just poking up above the edge of
the nest. Back then they lingered long enough to get pictures. A
week ago there was no time to waste – in and gone again in two or
three seconds.
The pattern is relentless. In, feed, out – unless I’m
too close.
I’ve watched the incoming flight pattern. The adult
bird comes in from the field, straight along the yard, turns sharply
a quarter of the way along, takes a long loop over the house, and
then ducks under the stable block eaves and into the nest. However,
if I happen to be standing near the nest location, they keep doing
that lazy loop over the house, coming back, turning again just above
my head. Every one of those jinks is a sharp snap by my ear and a
furious cheep, before they race off for another run.
As I said, it was very funny when it happened to Piper,
but I’m not laughing now. It’s like someone clapping in my ear
every five seconds, accompanied by shrill screams of outrage.
That one lone beak was also misleading – it just
happened to be the only one visible. The current best estimate, now
that the youngsters are bigger, is four, and as they grow the adults
are getting more aggressive in explaining to me that this is their
patch now. It’s understandable, I suppose – two busy parents,
stressed out by the price of grubs and insects these days, and four
beaks to feed.
Last week, I just happened to pause in the stableyard,
staring out over the field beyond, and a swallow came in just over
the gate, aiming for me at face-level. It did miss me,
flicking aside at the last moment, but it all happened so fast that I
had no time to duck. I don’t know how fast a swallow flies (African
or European) but it covered the five meters from the gate in a blink.
Looking at the nest, I’m sure the pressure is really on now –
those youngsters are getting big, their down almost entirely replaced
with feathers, so the big day must be coming and the food demands
reaching a peak.
The harassment is also multiplied. At times there were
at least four adult swallows strafing the yard and I suspect that
some of these are stroppy teenagers from an earlier hatching. We know
that there’s been at least one previous set this year, because they
built the nest in the rafters of the corner box where the chickens
hang out. We had to leave the door open until after dark so that the
swallows could finish their day’s feeding.
It’s not just Piper and myself getting harassed. My
partner saw a half dozen swallows mobbing a buzzard until it
retreated, and more recently a falcon coming in low and fast across
the paddock, chased into the tree-line by three swallows on its tail.
Now the yard can return to peace and quiet. Over the
last few days, the number of chicks visible in the nest has dropped.
It’s tricky to keep count as all we can go by is the beaks or tails
sticking out over the edge of the nest. As of yesterday, we are
pretty sure that the last of them has finally flown the nest.
However, according to Google, there’s time for them to
raise another batch before the autumn migration.
Gulp.
