This martin house is on my next-door neighbors' property. They live in Ohio, and usually come up several times over the summer. I'm always glad to see them and enjoy their company, but I think they are both up in their 80s now, and they sometimes talk of selling the place, because the trip is getting to be a hassle. Some of the upkeep is harder, too. My lawn guy also cuts their grass, and I pick up the odd branch that falls, but I doubt the martin house has been cleared and cleaned in a long time; perhaps never. Every summer I see birds check it out, some with twigs in their beaks, and some appear to be staying there, but I have never seen any babies launched. Yesterday, even with all the snow and cold we still have, I saw a starling and a sparrow or two fly up and poke their heads into some of the openings, and even try to squeeze in, without much success. I think I will ask my neighbors next time they visit how they used to clean it. Looks to me like an extension ladder would be needed, and a couple of strong friends to hold it steady - it's right on the edge of the breakwall, and a tumble onto the rocks below wouldn't be fun!
I've been reading up on purple martins, and though I see them catching insects over the water, they seem to be very particular about their nesting sites, and so I wonder if sparrow and starlings would be all that move in if the house were to be cleaned. A house on a telescoping pole is what's recommend for easy access, but this old model doesn't have one of those. Perhaps it's doomed to be a spooky old neighborhood relic that young birds challenge each other to go and perch on for a few seconds if they dare.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.