Whoever knows me well, knows that I spend most of the spring and summer months with my eyes up in the sky; from March until October, a yearly miracle happens in front of our very eyes, a miracle not everyone is aware of but which has been fascinating me since I was a child.
I have been in love with house martins for as long as I can remember; my very first memory of these sweet birds is back at my home mountain village near the Italian Alps.
I remember them building their mud nests right on top of my bedroom window; 3,000 perfectly formed mud pellets, cleverly stacked upon each other and engineered in what is a perfect cup form, ready to host 4-5 tiny chicks for up to 4 weeks.