The Birds Who Call Us Home

The Birds Who Call Us Home 03.24.2026 | Featured , Wild Life Wild Life 03.24.2026 The Birds Who Call Us Home In springtime in North America, purple martins spread joy as they return to their nest boxes—is that enough motivation for us to ward off an avian housing crisis? Story by Brian Payton Share We’re in the full flush of spring. Here on the east coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, signs of renewal abound, including winged arrivals from Espírito Santo, Brazil—the ravenous and ravishing purple martins. I, too, am feeling revived. This year, in addition to the usual milestone—a birthday, my 59th—spring brings something new: the first anniversary of having survived a major health crisis that nearly cost me my life. Short of a swift helping hand, I wouldn’t be here today. I think the new me has become better at finding joy in and connection to the burgeoning life around me: the unfurling leaves, the riot of blooms, the return of migratory birds—especially the purple martins. While the females of this species are mostly shades of gray, the males are a resplendent, iridescent purple-black. North America’s largest swallows, their acrobatic aerial feats as they pursue insects, and each other, command attention. Their complex vocalizations—urgent proclamations of metallic clicks and chirps reminiscent of R2-D2—delight me every time. Clearly, I’m not alone in my appreciation. Six new nest boxes, funded in part by the city, have gone up at the end of the pier overlooking our small town’s marina. Checking on them has become a highlight of my family’s evening strolls, which can include sightings of river otters, seals, and bald eagles vying for castoffs from fishers cleaning their catches. Over the years, I’ve noticed these shoebox-sized homes in several locations here on the island and wondered about the people who built them and the birds who use them. This year, the year of no more excuses, I decided it was time to follow my interest. I soon discovered that purple martins inspire deep and lasting devotion, and that this connection is older and more widespread than I could have imagined. Across North America, wherever purple martins are found, people are moved to care for them. But there are many species of birds, and other wild creatures, that could use a helping hand. What is it about these birds? For many purple martin people, the answer lies in an intimate, vital, and ongoing relationship with something wild willing to meet us across the interspecies divide. Like all purple martins , the western subspecies ( Progne subis arboricola ) that nests in my neighborhood depends on a wide variety of flying insects to sustain itself and its chicks, including wasps and winged ants, bees, flies, beetles, moths, butterflies, and dragonflies. Vancouver Island sits at the northern extent of their breeding range, which reaches all the way down to Southern California. They arrive here after a nearly 13,000-kilometer (8,000-mile) round trip to their winterin