Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Fly away home

It's been oh, so hot and muggy, but there's a slow shift happening already.  Fall is hovering near and I welcome it as my very favorite time of year.  I knew when I saw this, they would be leaving soon, so just before I left for Nashville last weekend, I took this picture of our Purple Martin families building up their flying muscles.  I say our Martins because they consider our homeplace as their own.  Many of the adults were born here in years past and return each spring to raise their own clutch of babies.  In their little condo homes, high above our garden, they chirp to me as I come to the barn each morning, swoop about me during the day as I am mowing or working in the garden (eating bugs that are stirred up as I pass) and sometimes at night, when I walk past for the last barn check, I can hear them shuffling about inside their compartments, settling in for sleep.  The nest box will come down now, to be cleaned out and stored until next spring.  I always have it marked on the calendar when we should start watching for the scouts they send ahead of the main flock.  Once we see the scouts, we know the rest will arrive within days.  We put up the nest box and, when they've settled in, the nest building begins.  It's the age old cycle of life, condensed into a few short months of summer.  They left on their annual journey to South America while I was away for my sewing workshop, but I know I can count on them finding their way home next spring.


  1. I really don't think I've met anyone who has said that Fall is NOT their favorite season.