Twenty years ago, one of the early-evening joys of coming home to our little house on the southeast side of San José, Costa Rica, with the coffee fields gracing the hills across the river like tightly-braided hair on a handsome head, were the swallows.
Something about that cool, clear hour of the day brought them into close-order, cartwheeling, exuberant view as they plucked insects from the air and entertained my admiring eyes.
I have always missed the swallows.
Just over two years ago, I read that there is some hope of attracting Purple Martins to a purpose-built house. A mail-order and several hours of assembling the thing ensued. Alas, this year I missed the second consecutive Springtime migration date for getting the house erected in our front yard. Besides, there is not a lot of talk around here about frequent visitors with the surname Martin. I suppose the long-shot nature of the adventure damped my enthusiasm a bit.
So my surprise, last gorgeous evening at 9:00 p.m. or so, returning home from a trip to the YMCA with my son, to see swallows (so I thought, but probably the related Purple Martins) careening over our neighborhood and looking very much like their cousins in Costa Rica two decades ago.
We have them here!
That Purple Martin house is definitely going up in time to greet the Martin scouts of next Spring’s migratory return.!
Canter Bridge 
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