They came in today from the South like sleek black jets, nimbly riding the gusts of spring winds that at times reach upwards of 40 mph here in Oklahoma. Following some ancient compass imprinted a million years ago, some have traveled from destinations as far away as South America to herald the changing season into true spring. By catching the warm thermals that rise up from the Gulf of Mexico and eating insects on the wing, they have made the journey in less than a week.
Hearing their familiar musical cries, I hurried outside and looked hopefully skyward. I was not disappointed. I quickly lowered the twenty-foot high green and white birdhouse in my back yard and pulled the plastic covers from over the entrance holes. They had been placed there last fall to keep out the dreaded nonnative enemies, the Starling and Sparrow, brought here some two hundred years ago by unsuspecting English travelers.
As quickly as I had gotten the house back in the air I was rewarded for my efforts by a mottled breasted young scout who swooped in kamikaze style then pulling up at the last moment, came to rest proudly on the roof of the house.
But he was no match for the jealous black starling that dove in from the East at fifty plus miles per hour. The scout was knocked from his perch in a second, his beak, made for catching insects in the air and not for fighting, was no match for the big black Starling with the sharp yellow bill. Making his escape ruffled, but not seriously injured he flew off in search of more friendly climes.
I was disappointed to say the least.
But just as quickly, a magnificent blue/black irridescent older male with a 14” wingspan replaced the scout. It was obvious right up front that he had seen these bullies before. He quickly took the Starling to task, and after a brief skirmish achieved air supremacy surrounding the green and white bungalow in the sky.
As I stood outside my house and watched the ariel acrobatics, I heard a loud clap of thunder coming from the west and through the porch window I could hear the TV in the den prattling on about impending tornadoes. I sat down in a patio chair, and smelled the warm honeysuckle breeze that always precedes the thunderstorms that are part of “the mean season” here in Oklahoma. *“Storm coming”. *I thought. But that was ok,
My Purple Martins had arrived.
Hey lighten up, it’s the little things folks. 
