Busy Birds

There are many birds that gather
In my yard all through the year,
But there is one that 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's the goal.

She and her faithful hubby,
Oh how that guy is trained,
Have come back to their old love nest
On my porch where it remained.
She showed him how to mend it,
And he worked hard at his task.
Anything she wanted
All she needed 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
'Til their freeloading's over,
But they're never offered grain.

No, it's bugs and bugs and more bugs.
They keep Mom and Papa hopping.
She tells him, "We 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.

Papa 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 hubby's going out for more
She doesn't have to scold.

You will not find better parents,
Human ones or otherwise
Than those precious little swallows,
With a love that's super size.
You would think they would be happy
When those youngsters leave the nest,
But they start another family.
Busy swallows never rest.

Any villainous mosquito
Won't have chance to do me harm,
While those persisting swallows,
Have a nest on this old farm.

By: Joyce 6/17/03