A Colorful Conundrum

Having successfully established a bluebird trail with a pair of nesting bluebirds -- or unsuccessfully, considering the fact that Sean and Bluette chose to nest in our playground and ignore the nesting boxes -- I turned my attention to attracting a bird that, if possible, is even more fiercely loved than the bluebird.

At least, that is what the purple martin lovers claim.

Purple martins, like bluebirds, are iconic American birds. Bluebird lovers speak of the bluebird of happiness bringing joy throughout the country. Purple martin lovers point out that the purple martin was there to greet settlers who came over on the Mayflower. Bluebird aficionados note how the species has been decimated by European starlings and English house sparrows taking over their natural nesting sites. Purple martin lovers indicate that purple martins have been even more decimated by starlings and house sparrows. Bluebird trail keepers call themselves landlords. Purple martin colony keepers call themselves landlords.

An image of two little kids, one in a blue T-shirt, one in a purple T-shirt, trying to one-up each other, comes to mind.

Despite the jockeying for position as most beloved American bird, purple martin landlords are correct. Invasive species -- most notably the larger-sized starling -- have taken over the purple martin's habitat. Martins are cavity nesters, and the birds are a family unit, nesting in colonies rather than individually. Because of the lack of habitat, purple martins east of the Mississippi now rely exclusively on man-made nesting areas, with many to the west also relying on housing supplied by humans.

Colony houses are easy to recognize. Always white to reflect the sun, a purple martin house is usually large (to accommodate several families), with separate apartments, each with its own private entrance and porch area for resting and perching. Houses can be plain, box-like structures, or they can be elaborate Victorian-style dwellings. They can be made of plastic, aluminum, or wood. Always, they are erected on poles a minimum of 15 feet off the ground, with a 40-foot, obstruction-free "flyway" in each direction to allow the martins clear access to their home. People who put up purple martin houses perform regularly scheduled maintenance visits, lowering the housing unit every couple of days, to make sure it is clean and clear of unwanted tenants (sparrows, starlings, and even other cavity nesters like chickadees and bluebirds).

No wonder they're called landlords.

I had never seen a purple martin, but seeing how I'd never seen an oriole until I put up an oriole feeder, I was determined to put up a colony house. Purple martins are insect eaters -- they eat only flying insects they catch while in flight themselves. Seeing that there are plenty of flying insects on our acreage -- mosquitoes, flies, bees, wasps, dragonflies, and others I don't have names for -- inviting purple martins to take care of our bugs seemed only natural. And with a pond just to the back of our acreage -- purple martins love skimming through water -- the only obstacle to putting up a purple martin house was my husband, J.

J had been very patient with me as I put up nesting box after nesting box, feeder after feeder. He said nothing about the bags of bird seed that found their way to our home, nor commented when a bird bath was suddenly in our back yard. His only reaction to finding mealworms in the refrigerator was to wrinkle his nose and shake his head. But a purple martin colony? This was no $30 box and pole, no $20 feeder and a box of sugar. This investment would be at least $100 if not more.

Fortunately, I have the world's best husband. One afternoon, we were at Lowe's picking up home-repair components, and we happened to pass by the purple martin items in the gardening section. J looked at me and asked me if that would make me happy. I nodded and, the next thing I knew, a pole and house were in our cart. "Like Edward to Bella, I always want to make you happy," J said, referencing the Twilight saga we were currently reading.

The purple martin house sat on our great room floor for a month, unassembled.

Why? Well, there was the time constraints. We were still mid-move from our old house, and a great deal of time was being devoted to packing and transporting our belongings, as well as towards repairs in our new home. I was inundated with work, with students preparing to test, with vendor purchasing, with administrative details. The kids were going back and forth to camp and dealing with itchy bug bites, poison ivy, and impetigo. And, of course, Sean and Bluette's babies were... well, being cute.

Finally, I knew something had to be done. With tape measure and 12-year-old son in tow, I went out to the back to find the perfect location for the purple martin pole. I wanted it to be visible from the den, from the kitchen, and from the master bath -- not an easy task, seeing that the colony house had to have 40 clear feet in all directions, plus be no further than 100 feet from our house (purple martin colonies apparently only succeed if they are close to human habitats). The house would also have to be in a place that would not mar J's carefully maintained backyard, or at least look really out of place. After careful measuring and remeasuring, I chose a spot in a natural bowl in our yard, close to our gazebo. I marked the spot with an empty Aquafina bottle, and N and I went inside.

The pole never went up. To my chagrin, I learned that it was too late in the season to put up a purple martin house. July was when purple martins were starting their preparations to migrate south for the winter. If I put my purple martin house up now, there was a tiny chance that migrating sub-adult martins might see it and consider it for next year (adults return to the same nesting spot year after year; sub-adults leave to start their own colonies). More than likely, though, I'd have to keep monitoring it all fall and winter long to prevent starlings and sparrows from occupying it or, at the very least, I could erect it but plug the holes to prevent unwanted birds from roosting there. The plugs, however, might dissuade inquisitive sub-adult martins from considering the house as a future colony. As for that future colony, purple martins return to my neck of the woods about March, more than half a year away.

On top of that, my colony house would not be very interesting to other martins unless martins were already there. In other words, I needed a decoy -- a fake plastic purple martin to attach visibly to one of the house porches. Passing martins would see the decoy and supposedly think, "Hey! There's one of our cousins on that nice house. We haven't seen it before! Let's go check it out!" Then, ignoring the fact that their "cousin" would not move one plastic feather to welcome them, they'd move in.

A more successful lure for martins is a recording of their dawn song. The purple martin dawn song is one of nature's wonders. Just before dawn every morning, adult male martins circle several feet above their colonies, singing a musical series of chirps and chitters over and over again -- the dawn song. They repeat this for quite a while (I've heard anywhere from 10 minutes to 30 minutes), and the song can be heard as far away as 30 miles, although heard by martins or by humans and martins, I don't know. The human interpretation of the dawn song is something along the lines of "Hey, isn't this a great place to live? Why don't you check it out and come live here, too?" It's meant to draw migrants and sub-adult martins to the colony, increasing its size. It's recommended that purple martin landlord-wannabes purchase a recording of the dawn song, then set up a speaker system near the colony house, timing the playback to occur every early AM.

Purple martin landlords may have more responsibilities than human ones.

I haven't bought a CD of the purple martin dawn song yet, although I know I can get one from The Backyard Bird Company. To me, rigging a stereo set up like that seemed an incredible amount of work to do, just to attract a half dozen or more birds. I did see among the store's online offerings a little all-in-one stereo box that can be set to play at specific times, however. Several bird calls are pre-recorded in the box, including the dawn song. I'll have to take a closer look, eventually.

As for my purple martin house and pole, I've returned them to Lowe's... sheepishly, since the box for the house was long-ago recycled. I still hope to attract a purple martin colony -- the Aquafina bottle is still out there -- and I know I'll have to erect the pole in the next month or so, before the ground begins to freeze solid, or I'll never be able to get a colony house up by March. Why did I return the house and pole, then? In my research, I discovered that plastic housing is the least successful of all colony housing. Aluminum housing has the best success, followed by wooden housing. Beating both of those, however, is gourd housing. Years ago, Native Americans hollowed out gourds and carved entrance holes, then hung the gourds up for purple martins to nest. Today, gourds have the best success rate as colony housing because each family has its own individual unit, versus sharing an apartment building. As the colony grows, more gourds can be added, versus having to buy a larger house and displace the existing nests. But best of all, purple martins have no problem with the wind causing their gourds to swing, while sparrows and starlings can't stand it and therefore avoid gourd housing. I just wish I'd learned that earlier.

On my "to buy" list: one mounting pole, one gourd rack, one set of gourds, one stereo box loaded with the purple martin dawn song. No doubt about it: when it comes to birding expenses, bluebird landlords have nothing over purple martin landlords.