According to one dubious internet study, 6 % of Americans fear attacks from Barn Swallows. Alfred Hitchcock might have had something to do with this, but in his movie he employed gulls and ravens for the nasty cinematic work – not swallows. I suppose “Hitch” could have imperiled Tippi Hedren with thousands of chortling swallows, but these birds have tiny beaks and would not have been able to peck out her eyes. The fork-tailed hordes would plaster her with mud pellets instead.  Such is not the stuff of horror films.

Since a majority of swallow-fearing people probably have not even seen “The Birds,” I guess the explanation lies in a simple misunderstanding.  Barn Swallows are graceful masters of the air, proficient insect eaters, and expert mud masons. They use all these abilities for the forces of good – not evil.  These 7 ½ in. blue and orange birds have long pointed wings and delicate bifurcated tails which allow them to acrobatically pursue insects on the wing. Though unable to peck out eyes, they actually have huge mouths with which they engulf insects in flight and carry mud. Swallowphobes mistakenly believe that these mouths are large enough to enable the bird to swallow a barn – thus the name.  If that’s the case, it would be more productive to worry about Cliff Swallows.

No, Barn Swallows are just simple builder folk who make their nests out of adobe. Adobe is a mixture of clay, sand & fiber used to make unfired bricks. Such technology has long been used to build human structures in Central America and the desert Southwest. Since there is no logical reason to fear people from the Southwest (unless they try to serve you green hot sauce) there is no reason to fear swallows. As a matter of fact, current “Green Building” trends promote adobe structures throughout the world, so Barn Swallows are on the cutting edge.

I recently watched a colony of swallows collect their adobe building ingredients.  The first destination for each shopping trip was a patch of dead grass along the edge of a parking lot. Each bird would land and waddle among the grass stems to find one suitable for the job. With a few twists of the head, the brittle stems were snapped off and held crossways in the mouth like a buccaneer holding a dagger.  After a few stems were gathered, a brief flight brought the builder to the muddy edge of a large puddle. With the grass firmly wedged crosswise, the swallows then reached down to grab several pellets of mud with their bills agape.  They sunk in their tiny beaks and pinched off bits of chocolaty soil.  Once the short material list was satisfied, the birds launched into the air and returned directly to the construction site (under a dock in this case).

The grass and mud mixture was palpitated onto the rim of the nest in a motion reflecting that of a potter building a vessel of clay. These vessels were taking on the form of a wall pocket adhered to the dock beams (the nests will be about the size of a pair of cupped hands when completed). Each mouthful adds a new wrinkle of texture to the wall, and provides a record of material gathering trips. The grass fibers add strength to the structure and even out the drying process – just like the straw in adobe bricks.

By mid-morning, my birds were slowing down a bit. Instead of returning to the “pits”, they dipped their open mouths into the water to wash the mud out, and twirled around to immerse their heads for a healthy spray of bath water.  Clean of mouth and deserving of a rest, they then perched along the dock and preened.

The next to last step in nest construction will be to line the dried mud cup with a layer of fine grass and a few feathers. The feathers are a swallow thing – they have to be large, soft, and white.  Gull feathers are the plume of choice for the Barn Swallows in this colony.  The large white birds, and their feathers, are everywhere around here. Once the feathers are in, the nest is ready for use.

As I left the contented little swallow village, I had the distinct impression that the gulls were beginning to gather over my head. For a brief second I felt like a large French fry sitting out in the middle of a fast food lot – alone.  It was time to go.