I let it happen. This ultimate nightmare.

One afternoon, as usual, I was sitting on the dock, when I saw a nest being built up in the corner of the pontoon lift cover. I also saw 2 birds going to it.

I talked to them calmly, thinking to have them get used to me and see me as no threat.

“It’s OK”, I purred, “I’m not going to harm your nest.” Did I think I was like Snow White, someone who could make friends with birds?

It was even relaxing to see the feeding of the baby birds a few days later. Three little heads popped up to eat. The barn swallows let me watch them. Their flights over the water were mesmerizing, with their pale orange underparts glowing in the sun.

When Sheila came to visit on the dock, we sat and talked peacefully. After she left, I realized that I had forgotten to show her the nest, so serene was the day.

Until they dove at me! I was so startled, I jumped! I yelled! I left.

This happened three days in a row. I kept asking for it, by going on the dock, into my chair, trying to be brave.

Ignore them and they’ll ignore me, I thought, keeping my head down toward my book. It didn’t work. I had goosebumps and heart throbbing terrors with each swallow’s dive, even though I read online that it’s mostly a bluff.

I screamed at them again, involuntarily, as my own defenses came out.

Then, one day, vascillating between fear and bravado, I went down, singing a little to calm myself, and no birds came. I was praying, “Please God, be with me.”

Happy, yet puzzled, I peeked under the lift cover. Yes, the nest was still there. Hmnnn, had they moved out? Curiosity got the best of me. I rattled the lift a little. Right away, three little birds woke up and chirped an alarm! This brought the parents (and the whole family) to attack me.

I had to leave. The advice online says to wait it out and avoid the area, until it’s clear. It also informed me that all swallows are state and federally protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918. It states that active nests, with eggs or chicks inside may not be touched or destroyed without a US Fish and Wildlife Permit. We had to let it sit.

After about 3 days, Dan said, “We have to be able to use our property”. I wanted to clean the pontoon boat, but I was too afraid to.

It seemed like enough days had gone by that it should be OK to remove the nest. That’s when our nephew, Wes, on a Saturday visit, went down with a broom and knocked down the newly emptied nest, enduring wings whooshing by his head. Happy to say, no chicks were harmed.

That very afternoon, I tried to resume my dock sitting, but still it was not safe. They were angry at me, and all humans. The first step of my descent brought their “chit chit, chit chit chit” sounds, and I was spooked again. On the walk back up the steps, I boldly stared one in the face, and it did swerve away at the last minute. Shaky, scary stuff.

I waited a day, watching from afar the aerial activity, full of swallows, fearing they were building another nest. They were staying near the dock. Maybe one of the fledgelings had gotten only to our shoreline, and the parents were taking care of it.

Now I was becoming anxious about everything. A leaf would blow by me; I thought it was a bird. A little dog would appear at my feet, as I was talking to a neighbor; I wierdly thought it was a bird and I jumped. I couldn’t sleep at night. Besides the obvious frightful experience, I was missing my relaxation and reading time by the water.

It made me mad! So, I went down, wearing a hat and sunglasses, and carrying a bottle of boat cleaning spray and a towel. As they approached me, I sprayed the cleaner right at them (well, actually, into the air surrounding me, like a Ghostbusters move), continuing my walk toward the boats.

Then, I took my little dock chair, and used it as a shield, putting it over my head, raising it high and around, trying to startle them.

This whole process was somewhat fun and I think it worked. I must have looked ridiculous, but that was the point; to laugh, rather than cringe.

I was able to clean the pontoon, very fast, with me still shaking in my flipflops. I hoped the aroma of the cleaning would discourage another encounter or a future nest.

It was the most terrifying time of my life, but I survived it, and you can too!

Thank you for reading, and living this life with me. I really appreciate it!

Shirley