Julie Helen: Arrival of swallows brings thoughts of hopes for the future

I was getting out of my car at our house the other day when I spotted something special. We have a carport, so I can get in and out safely, no matter what the weather is like. When I emerged, I saw the familiar swoop of a bird, followed closely by a second, chirping wildly.

Growing up at home, the coming and going of the swallows, all the way from Africa, was closely monitored and remarked upon. My Dad keeps a bullet point diary every single day, detailing weather and important farming and family updates. The arrival and departure of the swallows always feature. When they come, it is the real sign of the start of summer.

I have a really early childhood memory of Dad holding me up high to see young chicks in a nest in an old boiler house. When I was ten years old, we moved house to further up the farm, and I remember well the great excitement when a pair of swallows set up home in the corner of the garage.

Now, over 30 years later, we can have a nest in each corner and every summer each pair of birds returns by pure homing instinct to the exact same spot. It is so joyful to see them return year after year to hatch at least two clutches and to watch them fledge and fly.

I could have cried when I was greeted by my own swallows, or possibly house martins, in West Cork. They are such a sign of home. It also means the ecosystem is right for the birds to thrive. While I was fairly certain these visitors were swallows, from my vantage point, I couldn’t spot a nest. I was worried they might have blocked a downpipe, but after a while, I discovered the most perfectly crafted structure of grass, straw, fluff and twigs balancing on top of planks that are leaning against the wall.

The nest is about a foot lower than ceiling height, so when I was looking in corners, I was missing it entirely. It was so expertly placed it’s almost completely camouflaged.

Every time I go to get in the car, the mammy swallow and daddy swallow swoop and give out to me, protecting their handiwork. I wish I could tell them not to worry. I’m delighted they are there. They won’t make any difference to me, but I will be delighted to watch their clutches grow.

I am so proud that there are swallows at our new home. Even though we have been here almost two years now, it still feels really new to me. Sometimes I even feel like any day now someone will come knocking on the door and tell us we must move on to the next place. It still feels surreal that this place belongs to us, that it’s really ours forever.

The settling of the swallows was like a sign of the future we might get to have here, with Ricky and maybe even his children beyond him. I hope some day I’ll be recounting how I first saw swallows just shy of two years after moving in and how they have been here for years since, returning each summer.

It’s funny the things that turn a house into a home. If you had asked me the factors that would make my home feel good, I’m not sure I would have thought of the little swallows, but they definitely gave me a feeling of home, of future, and of how home isn’t just about the shelter, it’s about the life we lead, filled with little moments of joy passed down from one generation to the next.