 Bird House Proud During my most recent walk to the north end of 100 Mile House, (just one of an increasing number - a sure sign that spring is in the air,) I ended up at 101 Mile Marsh. I planned on visiting this spot sometime before winter’s end just so I could assess and clean out 18 bird boxes placed last year. A vast expanse of snow covered the fenced-in ice-locked marsh and I briefly hesitated before venturing in the direction of the first few boxes on the south side. Thankfully the surface of the crisp, knee deep snow was strong enough to support a walk to the first box. The first box I checked was one I’d hastily put up last year when the numbers of willing-to-nest Tree Swallows seemed to be on the rise. The nest box did not have fancy access flaps but the roof was held on by small nails so it could be opened easily without tools. I peered down into the interior and saw a horrible mess. No, it wasn’t a scene of bird carnage, just the typical filth found in most used nest boxes. I removed the box from the post, inverted it, and vigorously tapped the box against the top of a fencepost. Nothing happened. Obviously it would be impossible to clean the box without a trowel. I returned the box to its post and walked further along the fence line. The front side of the next box was hinged. I opened it and easily dumped the clean-ish pile of grass and feathers onto the snow. The snow surface seemed to be softening and I gingerly crept along occasionally breaking through. I pushed on to another box. It was incredibly fouled, not only with droppings but the feathers and skulls of a number of birds. The next box was a mess too. The deep snow and dirty boxes gnawed at my flagging enthusiasm so I decided to end my impromptu box checking and walk back to town. Back at home I thought about returning to 101 Mile Marsh armed with the necessary equipment for nest box cleaning, but there was no real hurry. Swallow nesting season is not yet upon us. After seeing the filth in the nest boxes at the marsh, I wondered why no one has yet invented a bird box liner. Perhaps a cardboard or plastic sleeve, just something that fits snugly inside a bird box and can be removed at the end of each nesting season. Unfortunately it would be darn near impossible to mass produce one device that would fit all nest boxes. OK, how about a self-cleaning bird box one where you simply turn up the heat like a self-cleaning oven and the job is done. Meanwhile, back at reality… With the prospect of an upcoming house-sit, and a fully appointed wood workshop in my not too distant future, another avenue of thinking blossomed. I could take down all the 101 Mile Marsh nest boxes and install a new batch. I already had nine traditional hinged-roof boxes rescued from 100 Mile Marsh at my disposal. I would only need to augment their number by another 10 boxes or so… …and as it happens, on the wall of my woodshed hangs a bird box prototype. The bird box design is longer than it is tall, and looks somewhat like a fat-at-one-end house trailer. Tree Swallows enter the box at the narrow end and build their nest at the thicker end near the back. The floor slopes gently downward from front to back so that nestlings, when they acquire enough strength, can move to the entrance up a gentle rise. At least this is what I pictured them doing as I watched the first boxes in use. A few doubts nagged at me as I watched the Tree Swallows enthusiasm for these unorthodox structures. I wondered whether the new floor plan would reduce the parent bird’s fecal sac gathering forays into the box and contribute to a messier nest. Also, would the floor plan leave a weaker nestling at the back of the pack unable to reach the parents when they arrived with food? Last year, in my limited production run and trial of the prototype nest (about six) I found no starved nestlings in any boxes. However, I still wondered whether the mess inside was typical of a more traditional bird house. My more recent 101 Mile Marsh experience reminded me that dropping-drenched Swallow boxes are a part of cavity nesting life for young birds. They are pretty much living in a toilet of their own making. Sure, the parent birds remove some fecal material but I estimate less than half of what is produced. Perhaps parent birds providing food for larger than average broods are the ones with the messier house interiors. Humans are profoundly aware of having their housekeeping skills picked on. So now I must apologize to Tree Swallows for picking on them. Raising a brood of baby birds in an enclosed space is an understandable challenge in cleanliness. I have now decided to remove the 101 Mile Marsh bird boxes. Then I’ll build at least ten prototype bird boxes and hang them along with my aforementioned nine typical bird boxes. Any of last year’s bird boxes I find moderately messy may well find themselves hanging in a new locale, those which are really messy might languish in the elements for a year beside the woodshed before they see any more service. I am attaching, as this week’s illustration, the plans for my unorthodox bird box. The trials I ran last year showed this box to have an amazing appeal to Tree Swallows. I call the model Falling Bottom because the floor drops away for cleaning and it harkens to Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous house design, Falling Water. Use the plan if you like but be warned, I have seen perfectly sane Tree Swallows abandon a traditional house just to claim one of the Falling Bottom models. 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