Circling Swallow

During the life span of a cigarette this morning I watched a swallow nesting above the patio inside a small gap in the corner of the roof. He caught my eye as he had been repeatedly flying in circles, each time hesitating at the entrance of the hole but not entering.

Swallows are excellent fliers and use this ability to feed and attract a mate. But at this particular instance, his greatest strength was mocking his own efforts as he seemed unable to fly into his nest, perhaps due to some perceived misjudgment-- he came in too fast, too low, a hair too far to the right or left. And so he would circle around and try again.

After numerous passes, I saw him grow tired. His circles became smaller, his movements more drastic. He was exhausted, and this only impeded his confidence as he tried to enter the nest. It was as if he knew he was going to miss before he even got there, and so his mind was already ahead of him, planning another circle.

Then other swallows, who misunderstood the severity of the situation, began swooping at him as he made his repeat passes, throwing him further off course and accentuating the already dire predicament.

It was then that I noticed what possibly was even more inhibiting than some sort of passerine inferiority complex. The piece of straw he carried in his mouth was simply too large to fit in the hole. He knew this long before I did, but tragically it was a lesson he learned again and again with every passing swoop.

A popular definition of insanity is repeating the same actions expecting a different result. By that standard, this swallow was insane. It seems cruel to diagnose a creature whose existence is jeopardized by his own ignorance, but it's a lot easier for me to critique someone else's situation than to try and rationalize my own.