FLIGHT SCHOOL

Every year we have at least one or two nests of barn swallows in our open air garage. Most people we know knock the mud nests down as soon as they see them, since they don't like having poop and feathers all over the place. Us? Well, we kinda love 'em. The only thing we don't love is when one of the fledglings is flunking flight school. It makes us so very nervous to see one poor baby sitting there in the same spot all the live-long day, seemingly unable to get up off the ground -- especially when that spot is right behind one of our cars, and we can't back out of the garage for fear of running over the little critter. Plus we worry about predators if they are still stuck there when night falls, which is what happened yesterday.

This morning when I went out for an early walk, he was nowhere to be seen. I thought for sure someone had decided he'd make a tasty breakfast. But then something odd about that Russian Sage caught my eye as I moved past, and I came back for a second look.

Well whadaya know? Somebody finally made it up off the ground.

Not very far up, but hey. Up is up!