Home is where you make it

I’ve had this birdhouse for more than a decade. I won it at a recreation district event. It has graced my porch for more than ten years without EVER becoming home to any birds.

When we moved last year I set it out (decoratively) on a post in the yard that used to hold one of those gigantic satellite dishes. The wind kept blowing it off, so I moved it to the porch, where it has resided through the fall, winter, and spring.

So the other day my daughter says, “I just saw a bird fly into the birdhouse.”

No way, I thought. I went outside and used the LED light on my phone to investigate the interior of the perpetually abandoned birdhouse. To my shock, the interior has been lined with feathers, and under the feathers, I could just see the outline of at least four tiny white eggs. (Since then, Mama Bird has added additional feathers to hide her eggs from prying eyes.)

This discovery triggered a stakeout. I kept my eye on that little birdhouse, which is alarmingly close to our front door, for hours.

Sure enough, a pair of swallows has decided to make the long-empty birdhouse their home this year. Their next-door neighbors are a pair of Rocky Mountain bluebirds who nest annually in the eaves just a few feet away. I’ll be keeping an eye on the birdhouse for the next few weeks, awaiting the arrival of its tiny occupants.

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