UNEXPECTED VISITORS
Instituting an open-door policy for guests seemed like a great idea—till the wildlife arrived!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Marilyn lives in Belwood, Ont. and began her writing career as a stay-at-home mom with two young children. In her spare time, she wrote articles on antiques for Canadiantiquer magazine. The sweet taste of success and the joy of reading to her children led to her true calling—writing for children. Marilyn is now the award-winning author of 30 children’s books and is currently working on a collection of short adult fiction. You can visit her website at www.marilynhelmer.com.
Our dream had become a reality. My husband and I were now the proud owners of a cottage situated on nine acres of farmland overlooking the beautiful Beaver Valley. We couldn’t wait to open the door to welcome friends and family. Let the good times roll and indeed they did!
On this warm spring morning though, my husband and I headed for the cottage, looking forward to a quiet weekend on our own. Relaxing on the deck, reading, daydreaming and watching the clouds drift by was the extent of our plans. Little did we know that we would soon be busy hosting some unexpected visitors.
While I made coffee, my husband checked the bird feeders.
“They’re almost empty,” he said. “The hummingbirds have been busy.” We had two hummingbird feeders, hanging right outside the patio door. We never tired of watching these tiny creatures with their vibrant jewel-toned feathers, hovering wings a-blur as they drank from the feeders.
I joined my husband and looked out at the field beyond. The maple trees we had planted each held a birdhouse. I grabbed the binoculars.
“The swallows are back. I can see a female, sitting on top of one of the houses. The male just flew in with some nest-building material in his beak.”
“I’d better get the feeders filled.” My husband opened the screen door and unhooked the hummingbird feeders, leaving the door ajar. As he stepped back inside, I noticed bits of milkweed fluff caught in the empty feeder hooks.
Suddenly, the thrum of wings caught our attention. We turned in time to see a hummingbird, hovering mid-air, obviously anticipating a feeder feast. Focused only on the feeder, he zoomed through the open door, faster than a speeding bullet. When he spotted my husband holding the feeder, he panicked. He abruptly changed direction, not outward but upward, landing on the ceiling fan near the windows in our high clerestory ceiling.
We looked up in horror. How were we going to get this tiny, unexpected visitor safely back outdoors where he belonged? We flew into action. I opened the screen door wide. My husband got the extension ladder, hoping to climb up and gently shoo the hummingbird back to the great outdoors. Meanwhile, I stationed myself at the top of the stairs leading to the bedrooms, holding a blanket between my outstretched arms so he wouldn’t head in the wrong direction.
Gentle shooing of the hummingbird only him sent into further panic. One of two tragedies seemed imminent. My husband could fall off the ladder or the humming
bird could kill himself if it dashed itself against the high windows, trying to get out.
As we paused to regroup, before our astonished eyes, problem number two flew through the open screen door. The nest-building swallow, likely attracted by the milkweed fluff caught in the feeder hooks, had flown over to investigate. Somehow, he had managed to overshoot his mark and end up in the house. After circling the living room a couple of times, he flew upward, joining the hummingbird on the ceiling fan!
This sent the hummingbird into a complete kerfuffle. Abandoning the fan, he zoomed downward, darting from window to window below, looking for a way out. Moments later, to our great relief, he found the open patio door and flew back to the freedom of the great outdoors.
My husband climbed down the ladder. “Maybe if we just leave the swallow be, he’ll follow the hummingbird and fly out on his own.”
Standing well back from the open door, we watched hopefully. Minutes dragged by. Unfortunately, the swallow seemed quite content to perch on the ceiling fan, while we looked on in despair, wondering how on earth we were going to get him safely back outside.
In the silence, I became aware of bird calls coming from outdoors. They seemed to be growing louder and more insistent. I glanced out the window and spotted the female swallow sitting on top the birdhouse in the maple tree. For such a small bird, she was making quite a racket. I looked at my husband.
“Do you think she’s calling to her mate?” My husband chuckled. “Maybe she’s telling him to get back to his nest-building business and never mind lolling about visiting humans when he should be working.”
As if on cue, our visiting swallow finally took flight, circled the room a couple of times until he spotted the open door. To our great relief, he too flew safely back outside.
After dinner that evening, with all the doors tightly shut, my husband and I sat on the deck, enjoying a glass of wine accompanied by the beautiful sound of birdsong. We agreed that although we are dedicated bird lovers, we prefer to keep our visitors to the human kind and see our feathered friends free in the great outdoors.