TEXAS WILDLIFE
OUTDOOR TRADITIONS
Barn Swallows and Other Bird Watching Pursuits Article by SALLIE LEWIS
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings. ~William Shakespeare
B
etween the start of the pandemic and the start of my sabbatical in the Texas Hill Country, hope was something I sought frequently in 2020. I found it in the waxing and waning moon, the arc of the sun from dawn to dusk, and quite unexpectedly, as Shakespeare noted, in the trace of a swallow’s wings. My year of country living began in late winter of last year. As the cold thawed and spring bloomed, birdsong became the soundtrack of the season. My house sits on the outskirts of Fredericksburg on a hilltop overlooking rolling fields and farmland. Though I was living alone, I found surprising solace in a flock of Barn Swallows nesting around my home. Their shiny eyes, midnight wings, and cinnamon bellies colored those dark early days of the pandemic. Furthermore, their steady singing inspired me to find joy and music in my own life.
54 T E X A S W I L D L I F E
MARCH 2021
Day after day, these winged architects worked dutifully engineering their nests along the eaves of my roof. As the weeks and months progressed, I saw their muddy, cup-shaped homes hatch with activity as tiny swallows with gaping yellow throats emerged from the surface. Watching the next generation eat, grow and learn to fly was a heartwarming reminder of life’s continuity, even in the toughest times. Furthermore, the new hatchlings gave me faith that despite the challenges of the world, nature heals and life rebirths, moving ever onward. I recently read that Barn Swallows are the most widespread species of swallow in the world. They are one of seven different swallow species in Texas alone, and while there may be nothing particularly rare about them, I’m learning there is extraordinary beauty in ordinary things. Nature has a way of painting that truth with a broad brush. It has been a little over year since my sabbatical began. The swallows have long since left, migrating south in search of food and warmer weather, yet their nests never fail to remind me of what once was. While their departure left a void, I find comfort knowing we are all on our own journeys, our own migrations of mind, body and spirit. Over the past 12 months, the greatest lesson I learned is to embrace each day with a grateful heart and eyes wide open. Perhaps Mary Oliver said it best in her poem, Sometimes, “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Looking back at my journal from the past year, I realized every season brought with it new gifts born from Texas’ rich and abundant birdlife. In April, a flock of Sandhill Cranes flew high over my house. In June and July, I spent long afternoons lying outstretched beneath live oaks, watching the delicate iridescence of Hummingbirds as they sipped from my feeders. Through the summer and fall, I listened every evening for the honk of wild geese and Black-bellied Whistling Ducks as they flew from the neighboring property. In December, Northern Flickers pecked for ants and beetles from the grass outside my home. Soon, the Barn Swallows will return, and we’ll have come full circle. Hope is on the horizon.
