I took down most of the old swallow nests yesterday. Washed the wall. Swept away the debris. Today I’ll do the back porch. I’m done with swallows. Next season they’ll need to find a new home. Maybe a bridge somewhere or a barn. In the meantime, I can think of how to deter them. I kept them out of the garage by giving them no place to sit and no place to nest. I’m not sure how that will work on the porches. But I’m willing to give it a go.

There were five nests on the front with epic amounts of pooh. There are two more on the back. Eventually, I envisioned my home looking like a freeway underpass unfit for human habitation. It was fun when the first birds showed up fifteen years ago. A single nest lots of babies. But the last two years have been a different story. Their nesting places started showing up in my living spaces. It seemed unhealthy. There were way more birds than people or cats, and pooh. Lot’s of bird droppings.

I guess it’s like any relationship. Sometimes you reach a breaking point. A spot where you have to move on. Do something different. And for me and the birds, this is it. It will make for an interesting spring, but eventually they’ll find a new home or homes and new places to roost. After all, they have a drive, its why they migrate, but they’ll have to compromise to do it because I don’t want them here any longer. It would have been easier if we’d parted company earlier, but it is what is. And it needs doing, and now that I’ve decided, I’ll be all in.