Claxton, Norfolk Every year the house martins check properties for suitable nest sites, even examining our nonexistent eaves

As if minted out of the soil that morning, suddenly house martins were around our garden a fortnight ago. Every year the pairs in the village perform an almost ritualised house inspection, when they check properties for suitable nest sites.

Every time they tantalise me by swooping to examine even our nonexistent eaves. Then they fuss about the gable end to our neighbour’s. Were they ever to choose the last spot, which looks perfect to my unbirdlike eyes, it would bring their distillate of African sunshine to within metres of my office.

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