Busy Birds

There are many birds that gather In my yard all through the year. However, there is one I favor. I wait for her to reappear. You'll not find her at the feeder, Like the others on the dole. I think her mama taught her Self sufficiency is the goal. She and her faithful hubby (Oh how that guy is trained) Have come back to their love nest, On my porch where it remained. She showed him how to mend it And he worked hard at his task. Aything at all she wanted, All she need to do was ask. Their nest abuts the ceiling, I bump my head before I see If the little ones have hatched yet, But if not they soon will be. Once here, their mouths will open And will never close again Until they're big as their own parents, But they're never offered grain. No, it's bugs and bugs and more bugs. They keep Mom and Daddy hopping. She tells him they have mouths to feed. There is no time for stopping. While he is gathering the food, She's shoving it into them And passes him when he returns From committing insect mayhem. Now Daddy gets the job of feeding While Mama's on the hunt. In this nest of well fed children You will never find a runt. She grabs all of the mosquitos That her little beak can hold. Her mate is going out for more, She doesn't have to scold. You will not find better parents, Human ones or otherwise, Than these precious little swallows, With a love that's supersize. You would think they would be happy When these youngsters leave the nest, But they start another family Busy swallows never rest. Any villainous mosquito Won't have a chance to do me harm While these persisting swallows Have a nest on my old farm By: Joyce Johnson 6/17/03