The Big Flight

The cats are still pretty jumpy from weeks of being dive bombed by irate swallow parents. I managed to get a great shot of the babies a week ago by holding the camera over my head and snapping in their general direction. When a friend offered to get even closer we were startled by the four babies taking wing and flying out across the paddock. They each sat on a fence post while the parents flew from one to another before they all took to the sky again wheeling about in ever increasing circles. We were so worried that we'd frightened them away permanently but at 7.30pm that night and every night since the family arrive in a blast of excited chattering, the babies settling in the nest and the parents perching on the coat hooks on the opposite side of the back door. By morning they've all left for the day, only flying in under the carport every few hours or so.

From what I have been told swallows hatch two or three clutches per season and already Mr and Mrs have begun reinforcing the mud nest with dried grass, most of which is dropped around the door in amongst the piles of bird do do like some natural abstract sculpture. Perhaps I can enter it for some prestigious art award next year.