On Swallows and Goosebumps

I let it happen. This ultimate nightmare.

One afternoon, as usual, I was sitting on the dock, when I saw a nest being built up in the corner of the pontoon lift cover. I also saw 2 birds going to it.

I talked to them calmly, thinking to have them get used to me and see me as no threat.

“It’s OK”, I purred, “I’m not going to harm your nest.” Did I think I was like Snow White, someone who could make friends with birds?

It was even relaxing to see the feeding of the baby birds a few days later. Three little heads popped up to eat. The barn swallows let me watch them. Their flights over the water were mesmerizing, with their pale orange underparts glowing in the sun.

When Sheila came to visit on the dock, we sat and talked peacefully. After she left, I realized that I had forgotten to show her the nest, so serene was the day.

Until they dove at me! I was so startled, I jumped! I yelled! I left.

This happened three days in a row. I kept asking for it, by going on the dock, into my chair, trying to be brave.

Ignore them and they’ll ignore me, I thought, keeping my head down toward my book. It didn’t work. I had goosebumps and heart throbbing terrors with each swallow’s dive, even though I read online that it’s mostly a bluff.

I screamed at them again, involuntarily, as my own defenses came out.

Then, one day, vascillating between fear and bravado, I went down, singing a little to calm myself, and no birds came. I was praying, “Please God, be with me.”

Happy, yet puzzled, I peeked under the lift cover. Yes, the nest was still there. Hmnnn, had they moved out? Curiosity got the best of me. I rattled the lift a little. Right away, three little birds woke up and chirped an alarm! This brought the parents (and the whole family) to attack me.

I had to leave. The advice online says to wait it out and avoid the area, until it’s clear. It also informed me that all swallows are state and federally protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918. It states that active nests, with eggs or chicks inside may not be touched or destroyed without a US Fish and Wildlife Permit. We had to let it sit.

After about 3 days, Dan said, “We have to be able to use our property”. I wanted to clean the pontoon boat, but I was too afraid to.

It seemed like enough days had gone by that it should be OK to remove the nest. That’s when our nephew, Wes, on a Saturday visit, went down with a broom and knocked down the newly emptied nest, enduring wings whooshing by his head. Happy to say, no chicks were harmed.

That very afternoon, I tried to resume my dock sitting, but still it was not safe. They were angry at me, and all humans. The first step of my descent brought their “chit chit, chit chit chit” sounds, and I was spooked again. On the walk back up the steps, I boldly stared one in the face, and it did swerve away at the last minute. Shaky, scary stuff.

I waited a day, watching from afar the aerial activity, full of swallows, fearing they were building another nest. They were staying near the dock. Maybe one of the fledgelings had gotten only to our shoreline, and the parents were taking care of it.

Now I was becoming anxious about everything. A leaf would blow by me; I thought it was a bird. A little dog would appear at my feet, as I was talking to a neighbor; I wierdly thought it was a bird and I jumped. I couldn’t sleep at night. Besides the obvious frightful experience, I was missing my relaxation and reading time by the water.

It made me mad! So, I went down, wearing a hat and sunglasses, and carrying a bottle of boat cleaning spray and a towel. As they approached me, I sprayed the cleaner right at them (well, actually, into the air surrounding me, like a Ghostbusters move), continuing my walk toward the boats.

Then, I took my little dock chair, and used it as a shield, putting it over my head, raising it high and around, trying to startle them.

This whole process was somewhat fun and I think it worked. I must have looked ridiculous, but that was the point; to laugh, rather than cringe.

I was able to clean the pontoon, very fast, with me still shaking in my flipflops. I hoped the aroma of the cleaning would discourage another encounter or a future nest.

It was the most terrifying time of my life, but I survived it, and you can too!

Ah, not this tranquil, my barn swallows.

Thank you for reading, and living this life with me. I really appreciate it!

Shirley

On a Drawing

I found one sheet of this fabulous drawing paper (Rives?, Arches?) in my supplies from my days at the University of Nebraska Omaha, studying art. The Berol prismacolor pencils and drawing board were there also.

This drawing, “Clara in the Boat” was started in August 2018, while I was staying solo at the lakehouse. The composition of putting Clara in the lower part of the page was inspired by a portrait I saw at Joslyn Art Museum, where the figure was placed like this.

I like this stage of color in the water. The circles are an attempt to show the sun sparkles. My plan is to draw a simple outline of the boat, in black, and add detail to Clara.

Water too dark, I think! I left this drawing at the lake, to sit until the next summer, hoping I could lighten it up. Maybe if I did that, the dark spots would show the depth of the water.

Finished! That darkness in the water bothered me all winter (in my mind, because it was away from Omaha). I just didn’t like it, and I didn’t know how I was going to fix it.

After erasing a small section with a good art/pencil eraser, I used a tissue to rub off some color. It worked perfectly, taking off the pastel chalk that I had used on top of the colored pencil.

Then, I outlined the boat some more, and added color to the towel, which was an especially fun process!

Shirley

On Looking at Stars, Searching for Perseids

Where were you when the meteors zoomed by on August 12? I hope you got to peak at a few, or as I did, many!

In the past couple of years, I had seen a few in the darkened sky over West Lake Okoboji and was extremely excited about those 3 or 4.

On August 8, 2019, I was into my 3rd August of hopefulness. The air was cool, the stars brilliant, the mosquitos gone.

The Perseids Meteor Shower is happening right now, and peaks on August 12. It appears in the area of the constellations “Cassiopeia” and “Perseus”, to the upper right of the Big Dipper.

I went to bed at 10:30 after a very long Danish movie on Netflix (“The Fortunate Man”, which I don’t recommend). This movie with an interesting beginning, lured me to the end and kept me from watching the first stars pop out.

So, at 10:30, I was torn. Do I go to bed or stay up? I usually stargaze in the early dawn, around 4 to 6 AM. I went to bed.

At midnight, I woke up and went outside. It was a good time! Wrapped in a sweatshirt fleece blanket, on our lakeside deck, I stared at the spot where I wanted to see shooting stars.

I imagined a couple of brief ones but nothing dramatic happened.

The next door neighbor’s yard lights were on, lighting up both sides of the house. I hope for them to leave in the next couple of days so those lights go off.

It is really annoying when so many neighbors have extreme outdoor lighting in this peaceful environment. I get enough bright lights in Omaha. Maybe I’ll go to my first neighborhood meeting to bring up the issue and gently plead for softer lights at night.

I do like our neighbors and am happy to see them and know that they’re there.

Around 1 AM, I was not tired at all. A speed boat went by with loud music close to shore. I liked it, kind of singing along to the familiar tune and seeing it all lit up.

There was a party of some kind across the lake. Sound carries really well at night. The young men and women were swimming, I imagined, from the giggles, excited yells, and splashes.

FUN.

So, as I gazed and enjoyed my night time, I began to think that maybe I’d spend more nights outside in summer, maybe all night, switching my days and nights around.

I also thought of rural residents who have a sky view every night. Do they appreciate it, or do they take it for granted?

It’s such a gift, with or without meteors.

The next few nights were rainy or cloudy, so no viewing.

On Monday night, the 12th, I could hardly sleep. It was clear! I hadn’t been this excited in ages, Ha! I forced myself to go to bed at 10, then woke up at 2 and went outside.

Oh no! Thick clouds everywhere; even the moon had disappeared.

Also, another neighbor had strung very bright party lights between their trees. These weren’t the little twinkle lights. These were like spotlights, especially in the deep night.

Neighbor’s party lights, festive and pretty in daylight.

It was too much. The clouds, the near full moon, and these lights were all going to impede my viewing. Desperation set in, and I contemplated a criminal act, like going over there and cutting the wire.

Instead, reluctantly, I went back inside and read for awhile.

Around 3 AM, I looked out and was very happy to see that the clouds had moved on, clearing to show so many stars.

I became a night person for the next 3 hours, setting up a cozy deck chair with a blanket, pillow, and binoculars, in the darkest corner I could find.

The rare and glorious night proceeded like this:

I waited about 10 minutes, imagining little slivers of light moving. Then it happened! ONE bright and fast streak coming out from the Perseus constellation. No mistaking what that was. I was hooked.

3:30 AM. The stars are less visible. A foggy mist is rolling in, even hiding the lights across the lake.

4:30 AM. Suddenly, it clears, and I count 12 more meteors, appearing all over the sky, making 13 so far.

4:47 AM. No. 14, now NW of Perseus.

Then, No. 15!!! This one seemed to go west to east, long and bright, over the house, dipping a little.

4:50 AM. Chilly, damp and foggy, but some stars are still out. I pick some mint from my garden, and go inside to make hot tea, and write some notes. I think, “What am I missing while I’m inside?”

4:54 AM. No.16, spotted North, under Cassiopeia. This one left a streak behind it, briefly.

Around 5 AM, the fog cleared completely, and No. 17 goes right over the house, west to east, leaving a trail.

Next, No. 18 appears low in the east, in a dawn sky.

The Perseus constellation is now horizontal as the earth has turned. It was vertical when I first came out. And I see my old friend, Orion, rising in the east.

My neck muscles are stretched and strained as I bend back and keep looking upward. I’m moving now, standing more than sitting.

5:25 AM. Meteor No. 19, in the east, falls top to bottom.

Then, No. 20, right over my head.

This is so thrilling it almost takes my breath away, as I gasp at each surprising appearance.

At about 5:30, I hear a fish jump in the water which makes me look to the east. A meteor drops again from the sky, top to bottom, long and brilliant.

Little miracles of enjoyment, or big miracles, that I’ll remember for a long time, and think back on with reverence.

I can’t wait till next August 12th!

Shirley