I can’t claim to be much of an ornithologist: the lesser spotted mauve Flapwing and the irritable red flushed Bulltit are pretty much of a muchness to me.
A recent visitor to my veranda has, however, revealed an unexpected latent interest of which I have previously been unaware. A Swift has nested in the eaves of my balcony and I am now playing host to three diminutive chirruping Swiftlets. Personally I don’t hold with squatting, and I really should attach the extra long extension to my vacuam cleaner and dispose of the little varmints.
Unfortunately they’ve completely won me over. The sight of three small beaks craning on slender necks is enough to melt even my callous and stony heart. I have also been impressed by Mrs Swift’s bravery. She completes wide circuits as swiftly as only a Swift can before hovering two inches in front of my nose and glaring at me malevolently. I am convinced that any sudden movement on my part will result in my eyes being pecked out.
The only problem with Swiftlets is that they produce an inordinate amount of bird poo. God knows how many worms Mrs Swift is shoving down their voracious maws.
I’m convinced that if I collect their excretions I will be able to fertilise all the local flower beds (for a small fee).
No doubt the little fellas will be off soon. It will be a sad day. I suppose I should think up some kind of uplifting moral allegory to ameliorate my sense of impending abandonment. Unfortunately I can’t think of one.
A recent visitor to my veranda has, however, revealed an unexpected latent interest of which I have previously been unaware. A Swift has nested in the eaves of my balcony and I am now playing host to three diminutive chirruping Swiftlets. Personally I don’t hold with squatting, and I really should attach the extra long extension to my vacuam cleaner and dispose of the little varmints.
Unfortunately they’ve completely won me over. The sight of three small beaks craning on slender necks is enough to melt even my callous and stony heart. I have also been impressed by Mrs Swift’s bravery. She completes wide circuits as swiftly as only a Swift can before hovering two inches in front of my nose and glaring at me malevolently. I am convinced that any sudden movement on my part will result in my eyes being pecked out.
The only problem with Swiftlets is that they produce an inordinate amount of bird poo. God knows how many worms Mrs Swift is shoving down their voracious maws.
I’m convinced that if I collect their excretions I will be able to fertilise all the local flower beds (for a small fee).
No doubt the little fellas will be off soon. It will be a sad day. I suppose I should think up some kind of uplifting moral allegory to ameliorate my sense of impending abandonment. Unfortunately I can’t think of one.
10 comments:
Awwww, you're a softie deep down aren't you Garfer?
Oh and... yay... I'm first.
Do swifts return to the same nest site every year like swallows do? Maybe the mother will be back with a new family next year, then.
Last year at our hotel in the Algarve we found out that there was a nest of housemartins underneath the balcony roof of our room. Although it was entertaining to watch them being fed, it meant that you couldn't really sit out there at night when you wanted to have a couple of drinks, because of the smell, crap, and, on one occasion, a dead nestling. Lovely job for the cleaners, eh?
You big marshmallow!
Baby birds are so ugly they're cute.
Good God man. I go away for 4 months and you've turned all girly-birdy-soppy on me. As I can't be arsed to read through your archive for the last 18 weeks, have you got married to some incredibly beautiful birdwatcher or something?
'uplifting moral allegory to ameliorate my sense of impending abandonment'
Good grief! And yet I'm digging the wordiness of it all. Man, I love to read your writting!
swifts are the coolest birds! they fly in front of the tiny localized rain squalls we get here, hawking up the windblown bugs, and you can see them in the distance keeping a perfect course with the path of the raincloud up and down the valley.
up on the border stands a huge brick building with a chimney on each end...the northernmost being full of swifts. in the evening they spiral down into their home in a tornado of whirling birds, without a sound or a fallen feather. you are very, very lucky to have some which are easily observable! (yes, crap; i'm a dorky birdwatcher, i confess.)
Fuck 'em, the birds superceded the dinosaurs. The world would be far more intersting with dinosaurs in it. Although you may feel differently about it if a Tricerotops was nesting in your eaves.
More amusingly, your crisis reminds me a little of Tony Soprano's.
On the contrary Wyndham, I've always fancied having a pet Velociraptor.
I could use it to hunt down social security scroungers and Coldplay fans.
personally i for one am glad that there are no more pterodactyls. i mean, seagulls are bad enough; imagine what a flock of pteros would do to your car?
There was a wren's nest in the eaves of Pabbay when I was there a few weeks ago. They've probably gone now though....
Herge's 'Special Friend'.
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