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Without doubt, the most tangible and welcome signal of the summer warmth is the arrival of the swallows.
Last year they came in mid-April, and I am hoping, worrying and anxious that my summer companions will make it home again. I am not alone in this obsession, and among my farming neighbours, we stop and chat and wonder about the small birds who make the incredible 6,000-mile journey from South Africa annually.
The tiny swallows weigh no more than 200g and have to battle headwinds and Sahara sandstorms, travelling an incredible 200 miles per day, to make it home to Ireland. Sadly, many don’t make it on this astonishing migration, but those that do, build their nests and over the summer months will rear two, or even three, broods of three to five young.
Amazingly, our swallows come back to the same shed each year. The old nest is there and the male who arrives first begins to do a spruce up before the female arrives. The swallows build their nests from mud and little sprigs of vegetation. They swoop down on the edge of muddy puddles and scoop up tiny mouthfuls of wet clay that they amass bit by bit.
Annual nesting
The swallows pick up mouthfuls of mud and wisps of grass and straw to build their domed nests and each day, as the previous day’s layer of material dries, a new slathering is applied.
In the west of Ireland, the traditional houses were made of stone, but in the wet parts of the country, the chief vernacular building material was mud. These yellow clay walls were known as balla buí or falla foi’oiti. The mud was dug close to the house, water and chopped straw added and the puddling or mixing was undertaken by children, horses or cattle threading it with their feet. The tempo of construction was a mirror of the swallows’ nests with each layer or ‘lift’ allowing to dry before the next layer was added. Building this type of house was only possible in the early summer when the mud walls would dry and the signaling for such was the chattering of the swallows flying overhead.
Signs of good luck
In the past, throughout the spring months, children occupied themselves searching out the nests of the wild birds and counting the numbers of eggs in each, noting their different colours. The swallow lays four to five eggs coloured white, dotted with reddish brown spots. Their nests are in the out-of-the-way reaches of open sheds and farm buildings and their presence there was always taken as a sign of great luck.
However, it happened that the overly inquisitive children in search of eggs would sometimes disturb the swallows’ nest high in the rafters. On occasion, at milking-time, it was sometimes noticed that there was a show of blood in the milk and such an occurrence was immediately attributed to the destruction of the swallows’ nest and their eggs.
The swallows bring the promise of blue skies and sunshine and lazy long evenings when you can sit out and bask in the lush warmth of the golden setting sun. I can recommend a reclining deckchair and a glass of wine for this free spectacle of nature.
What simple joy there is to watch the acrobatic swirling and darting of the swallows as they dash and plunge and loop in their endless pursuit of flies and midges. If the swallows are up high, it is taken as a sign of good weather, but the swallows often swoop low over the streams and fields to find their food.
In our cattle-filled pastures, each cowpat is the natural habitat of over 1,000 insect larvae and in one summer grazing season, the dung of one cow will host over one million insects. The mesmerising acrobatic displays of our swallows is dependent on our herds of cattle in the fields.
The swallows hatch their first brood in just over a fortnight and in the first weeks before they can fledge, the young sit in the nest, their flat-beaked mouths, not unlike Jim Henson’s Muppets, closed until their parents come calling with a nutritious mouthful of flies. Then their funny mouths open wide and, amongst loud nattering and chattering, they greedily consume the seemingly never-ending offerings.
Fledgings
In my open shed, regardless of what I am doing and the noise and disturbance of my DIY endeavours, my returning summertime swallows and their fledglings look down from their perches with a trustfulness and a knowing that they are safe and appreciated.
It is their incredible journey and the dedicated way that they look after their young that makes these fantastic tiny birds more than just casual visitors, but deeply-loved members of my world and family.
Shane Lehane is a folklorist who works in UCC and Cork College of FET, Tramore Road Campus. Contact: shane.lehane@csn.ie
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