coming home to roost

For those of you who suffer from Tippi Hedren Syndrome, you might want to give Melaque in the evening a miss these days.

During the past two weeks, whenever I leave Banamex or Papa Gallo's in the evening, I am greeted by The Birds.  British regiments do not have as much order as these barn swallows.

This is not the first time I have noticed them -- or written about them (my turn at bat; are your papers in order?)  Barn swallows have been part of my life here since I arrived early in the spring of 2009.

Back then I speculated about where they lived in the winter.  Whether they migrated.  Why they congregated in the evening.

I still do not know the answer to those questions.  Last night, I realized I do not know much about the habits of these birds who have shared living space with me for the past six years.

I know they build their nests and raise their young here.  I assume they also mate here.  And I am far too aware of the messes they create in their nesting areas.  The first house I rented was a veritable swallow commune.

But I am not certain when they arrive in the area.  Or when they leave.

I do not pay that much attention to them.  I do know that when I moved into the new house, there was evidence that swallows had attempted nest-building in the sconces on the upstairs terraces.  But, by October, they were gone.

While watching the perched birds tonight, I realized that I do not often pay attention to details around here.  I can tell you what has happened today or this week.  But, trying to remember what happened last year is futile; those files are inaccessible.

Though I like to think of myself as being logical and scientific, I am not.  Mine is not a long-range vision.  My soul is less scientific than poetic.

And that is good enough for me right now.  The swallows are busy raising families.  Maybe the birds on the wire have not got around to settling down yet to raise wee ones.

I will simply enjoy their acrobatics and be glad they are not sharing my new home with me.