Apparently, martins are a beautiful bird that are notoriously difficult to attract to one’s yard. I guess they’re to the birding world what supermodels are to the dating world.
My father is a woodworker who creates these marvelous creations in wood that are both artistic and functional. He once created floating bookshelves for me (alas, they stayed with the house I didn’t get in the divorce decree), and he made the vanity for my sister’s basement bathroom, for example.
So when he surprised my Beloved with this marvelous martin house at Christmas, we were impressed with the cedar shake roof …
and hammered copper architectural flourish … .
It seems almost a shame to put it outside, but of course, those picky martins demand lots of open space for their mansions. The experts spout such details as “must be 14 feet in the air” and “no closer than 40 feet to other outdoor structures.”
So my Beloved invested in a telescoping steel pole, and we erected his new martin house this afternoon. Despite my complete lack of upper body strength, we managed to place and raise the roughly 30-pound house without any crippling disasters.
Now, as it sways gently in the breeze (trees sway, too, I’m wagering), it awaits springtime residents.
Welcome to the new martin house!