I know a little town in northern Ontario where Cliff Swallows build their elegant jug-shaped “pottery” nests directly over the front door of the lone restaurant. Each year, rather than tear down the nests, the proprietor puts up a sign requesting entrance through a side door.
On a day where midges by the lake were just as thick as the fog, we saw a small Cliff Swallow Colony:
and a puddle from which mud and nesting materials were being taken.
I’m told that female Cliff Swallows keep their wings aloft on the ground in order to prevent unwanted males from attempting to mate with them.
Although we didn’t see Whimbrels today, ornithologists at Whimbrel Point told us that the following shorebirds had flown past:
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease. – John Keats