As well as Dog, Pig, Cats 1-4 and various humans, we also share our house, part time, with a colony of House Martins. Which is why I am now looking out of the window at a gorgeous view of deciduous and conifer trees, blue sky and bird poop. The birds are currently hugely busy collecting food for their babies. During the season they produce two or even three generations who all then contribute to the clan's feeding of the young.
It is, of course, illegal to just destroy nests, but in Czech, untidiness is a greater crime. The British have a reputation for being messy, and we are living up to that perfectly. But, I love my house martins. They mark out the seasons with their presence - the arbiters of the arrival of summer and winter. They swoop gracefully up past my bedroom window and chatter in such a curious way - like they are uploading data to space.
So. Our house is covered in bird poop for half of the year, and much as I try, I am never able to keep all of the windows clean at the same time. Like some Herculean task, wherever I get to there is always more. And, besides, I have a life to live. It is not easy existing in such a big house without a cleaner. When the place was designed most of the occupants would have been servants. In the deep of winter when nobody else but our friend Boy dares to visit us, there is just Husband and I and the robots. Husband, of course, works his twelve hour days, so has no energy left for anything else. Me and the robots do okay. Generally people don't complain too much, but god, I need a cleaner. Probably a full time person.
Anyway, House Martins. I love them. They look after us and our flock of chickens. They are our guards from mosquitoes and hawks. Mosquitoes they eat and hawks they mob and chase away. It's a sight to behold, these tiny creatures who are so brave at heart, mobbing a hawk who would easily catch them if they were flying alone. I once saw them mob a hawk who had been hovering over my mother hen and her chicks.
Unfortunately, recently Cat 4 has taken to hunting them when they fly into the attic. Yesterday morning I rescued two from her clutches before shutting the attic door. She is such a sweet and affectionate animal to humans, and she's still young and not managed to actually injure a bird yet, she just takes them into my bedroom and lets them fly around. Then I have to catch the poor thing and release it outside. It's a rare thing, to get to hold a house martin because they are always on the wing. They never land.
For all the work they do for us, I'm happy to clear up the resulting poop.
YOU ARE READING
Bohemian Antiks Continue
Non-FictionTen years on from the original book, catch up with that British couple who moved to a big old house in the countryside of South Bohemia. We are not expats, we are British immigrants, trying our best to make sense of the society that is kind enough t...
