April 26, 2019

Time to farewell the swallows. Maybe

It’s almost the end of April yet the swallows are still swooping and darting about outside the window. That’s unusual. Not that many years ago we were waving these migratory birds off sometime in March. This was from our previous property where swallows were annual visitors who would fly in towards the end of August to nest in our back porch. Although we’ve seen them flying about looking for a likely place to build a nest over the four years we’ve lived here, swallows only decided this year ours could be a good place to call home.

The new residents built their nest comparatively late – but in record time – under the recently-erected car port. Given the late start they’ve still raised two families of three in swift succession and no doubt it’s these young birds that we’re still seeing enjoying the autumn sunshine and warmth each day. Fingers crossed a few will return next year and take up residence, and renovate the nest under the car port.

While it is annoying these birds create a bit of a mess with their droppings, it’s a minor issue against the pleasure of having them about, and watching their antics and athleticism in the air as they catch their breakfast, lunch and dinner on the fly. Some of the preferred insect food are sure to be mosquitos, another decided plus to having swallows about during the summer months.

Generations of porch-nesting swallows at our previous home were completely unfazed by our cat, who was tempted and taunted by their presence every year. A much younger Aggie would sit at the back door and watch them for hours, and when she thought nobody was looking, attempt to climb the flyscreen in an effort to reach the nest. Needless to say she never succeeded, and it was pretty obvious the swallows knew they were safe as they never showed the slightest concern at her frustrated attempts to catch them. She gave up trying eventually, as the years passed, and she lost some of the urge to hunt.

The swallows’ chittering and chattering was annoying for me too as at the time I was narrating for Hear A Book, and I used to record in that sun room area. It was essential to have absolute quiet as any extraneous noise was picked up by the highly sensitive recording equipment so when mum or dad swallow flew in with dinner, and the kids all demanded to be first in the queue, I would have to wait until their tiny stomachs were satisfied and it was all quiet again. No wonder my output was comparatively slow!

With much cooler weather to come it will be interesting to see whether this little group of swallows hang around, or they do decide to head North as so many Tasmanians do during the winter months.

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Magni
By Anne Layton-Bennett June 14, 2026
It’s taken far too many months for this marvellous model to grace the dedicated desk space in my office. When Fiona comes to visit next she will be very surprised, and hopefully gratified, that her amazing creative talent is finally on display. We’ve known each other for a very long time, and during the insanely busy time when I was helping to run the flower farm, working part-time in a school library, doing a spot of journalism on the side, and fighting the proposed pulp mill that is the subject of the manuscript I’m hoping to get published, Fiona cleaned my house each week. There’s only so much a person can do after all, and it has to be said cleaning our house during those manic years was fairly low down on the list of my priorities. But Fiona is a woman of many talents and she certainly possesses one that I so don’t have: sewing and dressmaking. So over the years she’s also made a few garments based on the pattern of a favourite garment that I was particularly fond of, and she’s also done some clothing alterations for both of us. My skills with needles and thread are limited to sewing on buttons, and taking up hems on John’s too-long pairs of jeans. Anything else is beyond me. But this fabulous model is the pièce de résistance – along with the beautiful crocheted knee warmer she gave me last year. This was when winter was approaching and so determined was I to finish writing the book, I decided to get out of bed at the insane hour of 5am and get in a solid hour’s writing in before dog walking and the demands of the day took over. Fiona was also one of many Tasmanians who needed to be circumspect about her opinion of the pulp mill. It was a project that polarised people, including families and friendships. She was one of several who passed on snippets of useful information, but on the basis of anonymity so it couldn’t be sheeted home to her.  Needless to say Fiona will be one of those whose contribution will be acknowledged – when this book is finally accepted by a publisher.
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