Home Planet: Fly away home

Tucked under the eaves of my roof, just above my head when I sit on the patio, a birdhouse hosts a family of swallows each summer. The hard-working parents show up and build a nest as soon as the weather warms. It isn?t long before I can hear the babies. That?s when the real work begins: From sun up to sun down, the swallows dive and swoop, scooping up insects to carry back to their young. They are met with wide-open mouths and a frenzy of sound. The hatchlings mature, growing more and more demanding with each day. It goes on and on and on. I like to sit in the shade, sipping a glass of wine or tea, and watch the drama. I can?t help but wonder if the mother and father birds ever get tired of the never ending find-and-feed roundelay. The babies never let up. "Feed us," they scream. "Feed us." Do swallows ever just snap? Do they ever want to fly up to the birdhouse, put their face close to the faces of their offspring and say through clenched beaks, "Listen, I?m tired. I?m worn out. Get your downy little backsides out of this nest and go find your own grub"? I admire their restraint...