By GLENN GARNETT
One of the less pleasant things about cottage living is doing battle with mosquitoes.
Sure, your lightening-fast reflexes may dispatch one or two to the promised land, but in the end, you’re fighting a losing battle. As one comedian delicately put it: "In the woods you don’t need ‘Off’ – you need !!@#@!**! Off!!"
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But suppose you had an ally against those blood suckers? No dangerous chemicals; no ridiculous buzzing gizmos to plug in. Just dozens of skeeter-gulping predators eager to hoover the skies above your cottage clean.
That is the promise of the purple martin, the largest North American swallow and the only species of martins on this continent. The adult martin weighs in at about two ounces and measures 7-1/2" from beak to tailfeathers with a wingspan of 15 inches. Mature males are an iridescent blue/black while females and immature males are blue/black on top with gray chins, breasts and abdomens. According to the Purple Martin Society, an organization devoted to the survival of this finicky bird species, martins have been clocked at 40 mph and probably had dinner in mind while they were doing it.
The purple martin’s main claim to fame is its consumption of flying insects, in particular the mosquito, which has no adoring society of its own. The books say martins chomp down 2,000 skeeters a day. I have no idea how they can back up that claim, but my father’s theory is that it has something to do with the number of dragonflies martins occasionally chow down on for a little variety – the martin gets credit for all the annoying mosquitoes the dragonfly puts away.
How can martins consume so many mosquitoes? The martin’s short, triangular beak opens into a relatively large cavity which it uses as a scoop as it darts through the air. A sticky substance coats the inside of the martin’s mouth and if an insect make contact, it’s game over.
Dad first discovered the purple martin about 25 years ago in a newspaper article. By that time, martin-mania was already in full swing, hatched in a small Ohio city called Griggsville which bills itself as the purple martin capital of the world. It began as a Jaycees project back in the 1960s – mosquitoes were making summertime life there a misery and it was decided to do something about. But they wanted a natural, non-chemical solution and naturalist J.L. Wade came up with one: attract the purple martin, in big numbers. Soon martin houses – including the largest in the world – began springing up all over town. So many martins arrived that some nested in traffic lights, which were switched off until they left to fly south.
Dad, already a borderline birdwatcher, began subscribing to the Purple Martin News and was captivated by the advertisements of those magnificent aluminum martin mansions, shiny green and white birdie condos you could reel up and down a pole to allow you to peek in and tidy up from time to time. He started small, and bought a 12-unit complex. But he only managed to attract two families over a couple of nesting seasons. The answer was obvious – buy a bigger one and soon a box containing a 24-unit house arrived at the post office.
Purple martins are the only bird species in the world totally dependent on man to provide nesting space. This goes back to native American Indians who used to hang hollowed-out gourds in which martins nested. The advantage of natural gourds is that rival species like starlings and sparrows don’t nest in them because they swing in the breeze. That’s the one thing martins are easy-going about.
Some martin lovers still hang guords, but more are flashing their plastic to buy the aforementioned luxurious aluminum birdie palaces with dozens of nesting units. For a species that depends heavily on the kindness of strangers, purple martins are notoriously particular about where they nest. Proximity to water is a must – they feast on flying insects, after all. Martin houses should be about 14’ in the air. The house should be mounted in the open air, at least 30 to 40 feet away from anything as tall, like a house or a tree.
But martin houses should also be within 100 feet of regular human activity. Why?
"They like people," Dad says. "For that reason, martin houses mounted in the wilderness seldom attract any. They’re gregarious." If your cottage is isolated and there’s nobody around most of the time, it may prove a little lonely for the birds.
The martins’ inner sanctum should measure 6" by 6" by 6", with an entrance hole measuring about 2-1/8" in diameter and about an inch off the floor. Anything bigger and you’ll likely attract unwanted tenants like those pesky starlings and English sparrows.
Dad was plagued with these imposters at first and invested in a humane bird trap. That’s where the bird gets lured by crust of bread, the door swings shut, Dad puts cage in car and releases duped birds a few miles away – sparrows aren’t as bright as martins for finding their way back. This method worked swell until the day he was taking a trio of sparrows for a ride when he hit a bump and the cage door opened. He was promptly attacked and had to pull over and abandon ship until they found their way out of the car.
But if you can lure a martin family and they nest successfully for a season, chances are they’ll be back year after year. Martins can live as long as 13 years and travel with their newly hatched families, so a colony of some size can form pretty quickly. Male scouts arrive first and, if your dwelling makes the grade, the female arrives soon after and the business of making babies begins.
Typically, the martin packs the house with mud and straw, placing a leaf or two in the middle for a soft spot to nest. Martin fanatics often provide the building material for the nests – in addition to the pricey lodging – and are sometimes forced to go above and beyond the call if the martins arrive a little too early and a cold snap hits.
"Sometimes, if the temperature dips below freezing, you have to hand-feed them raw hamburger to keep their strength up," Dad says. Some martin lovers will install a 100-watt lightbulb in a sealed unit, enough to keep an aluminum house toasty warm. Obviously dedication is the key to success.
The call of the martin is hard to describe – a kind of chatter you hear in the morning and at dusk, bookending a day of hoovering insects. Dad says you can buy tapes of martin chatter – play these in the spring and you might be able to entice a martin or two to take a look at your locale.
Dad tried everything, but few martins bothered to visit, let alone nest.
Martin lovers, like the birds, are a breed apart. People from all over North America peek into the nests of their resident martins to report the results to the Purple Martin Society and chart the migration of martins from their winter nesting grounds in sunny Brazil to their summer homes as far north as Canada. Martins spend five months in their North American nesting grounds, three months in South America and the remaining four months in transit to and from.
The society is concerned about the future of their bird. While the species is doing fine in Latin America, these attractive songbirds are falling in numbers north of the Mason-Dixon Line. More martin ethusiasts – "landlords" the society calls them – are needed in the northeast.
My father’s love affair with the purple martin, once an unrequited one, has a happy ending. A couple of years ago he managed to interest his brother in New Brunswick in putting up his forlorn martin house at his cottage by the shores of Lake Maquapit. Every year dad drives down, sits in Uncle Jack’s yard and soaks in the chatter of dozens of hungry martins. For him, this is bliss.
For more information about purple martins, check out www.purplemartins.com .
