Hurrah! Baby swallows are now in full voice, feeding unceasingly throughout the day. The apparently empty nest erupts into a furious scramble for nourishment as one or another parent flies desperately in to feed the monstrous demands of their offspring. Near collisions are narrowly avoided as they dash back and forth, trying to keep their brood satisfied, come rain or shine (although not, I must say, gloom of night).
Meanwhile, we fond surrogate grandparents are trying not to disturb them too often and using a different door as much as possible, waiting to go in or out when the parent birds are away for a moment.
I am looking forward to the babies learning to fly soon; one of the greatest joys of a summer's day. Newly fledged swallows zipping and tumbling exuberantly across the sky is a simple pleasure which can burst the heart.
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