Dave told me they would be leaving soon, but I didn't want to think about it. On April 28th, Dave Fouts, aka "The Purple Martin Man," rigged up a post with four gourds so I could have purple martins -- a kind of swallow -- here at the riverhouse. [To read more about Dave and find out more about the species, see the chapter, "The Purple Martin Man" in my book Wild Things.]
It was about 7 in the evening when he finished with the pole, welded steel plate, ropes and white gourd houses and he said, "You'll have purple martins here in the morning." It was hard to be dubious since he's such and expert, but-- really? the next morning?
Sure enough, when I awoke at 8 there were purple martins at the gourds. They are considered a "sensitive species" and this just shows how much they are lacking in places to live.
All summer I enjoyed hearing their bustling chirpy chatter and watched them constantly flitting about. I could see that some were nesting. When I lived at the forest house, it wasn't the right kind of setting for the martins -- they need more open space -- so I was thrilled at last to have some to call my own. They do feel like your own because the nests are right here and they are outside and noticeable.
About a month or so ago, I started to be dive-bombed by what I presumed were the moms -- literally swooping six inches off my head while I would be outside watering plants, etc., turning around and repeating the swoop from the other direction. I guessed there were young in the gourds and when I went around to look at the outside holes, I could see three babies in one nest, and two in another. Sometimes I would see the parent land on a post with a large insect like a dragonfly in its beak.
Last week there were more birds than ever on the cross-poles, so I figured these extras were the fledglings, practicing flying and landing. I knew they would be leaving soon to migrate south, but it was hard to imagine them not being around. Today for the first time since April their "housing unit" is devoid of their cheery chirps. I miss them already.
That's great that you're giving the P. Martins a place to nest. I bet they'll be back next year since you gave them a safe place to raise their young.
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