Headline of the day: Baby Swallows Fly!
If this made you conjure an image of an infant eating a bug then you are WAY off.
If you got a picture of a small bird leaving its nest then you have most likely figured out that I am in San Juan Capistrano. Home of the Migrating Swallows. I’m just kidding. I don’t know what the local high school mascot is. Prolly, though.
Before I marvel you with local wonders (don’t hold your breath) let me tie up a few loose ends.
Before my ill-fated attempt to visit the Jack Dempsey Museum, the one in which I was driven back by a scary storm, I mentioned to Trixie, so casual that I was fit to bust mind you, that I had driven by the “World’s Largest Arrows or Some Such Shit”. No big. Except to her. She insisted I backtrack and find them. I did, but I don’t think I ever got around to posting them. So, live (not really) from Colorado…
World’s Largest Arrow!
World’s Largest Head Getting Shot by World’s Largest Arrow
EM-50 Phantom Rambler Getting Shot in the Butt With World’s Largest Arrow. ..we goof around sometimes. Heh heh…He’s a good sport.
Back to business. As you should be aware, I spent a few days at The Last Free Place in America. I was there for NYE. In the morning, I broke camp and got outta Dodge (just an expression this time).
But before I left, I drove around for a few minutes with my celly set on VIDEO mode and gave a brief tour so that the curious among you could have a real-time visual of Slab City. To make uploading a breeze, I broke the video up into 5 parts.
I have been jacked in to the Capistrano Public Library free wi-fi for several hours now and am only 25% through part 1. Don’t count on success. (screencap related)
Back to the Miracle of the Swallows.
Back in the day, (sometime prior to 1812) an angry innkeeper took a broom handle and smashed to smithereens the mud nests the white-breasted cliff swallows had manufactured in and around his establishment. He was quoted as saying, “Fuck dem boyds.” We think he was from Brooklyn.
The swallows got the hint and sought summertime shelter elsewhere.
Construction of the famous mission in Capistrano began in 1776. It was finished in around 1812. It was impressive as hell (pardon the expression). But, God, showing that he is not without a mischievous side, brought down a massive earthquake that year which caused several walls to collapse.
Father Johnny Juniper, for whom San Juan Capistrano is named somehow, who was tired of construction, as anyone would be after 36 years, said, “Fuck it. God wills it. I ain’t fixing it”
The swallows ducked into the mission and started building their mud nests.
When someone pointed out that this could make quite a mess, the Franciscan said, “Shut up. It’s God’s will.” And, so the swallows were welcomed!
Some of this stuff might not be historically precise because Fr. Johnny Juniper died in 1784 before the mission was complete, but you get the idea.
Anyway, they turned it into a real celebration. Parade and balloons for the kids, all that stuff. Souvenir shops on every corner.
Every March 19th (St. Joseph’s Day) the cliff swallows return from their winter homes in Argentina, and go to their nests in the mission. Swarms of them! Like gnats! It is quite a spectacle! People come from all over the world to boost the local economy and watch them blot out the sun! Haha! Yay!
Even The King sang about it…
Elvis Presley-When the swallows come back to Capi…: http://youtu.be/caYaNd5rICc
Except…
Well, I hate to break it to you but, the swallows don’t come back here anymore.
About 10 years ago, some genius, who may have been an innkeeper in a previous life, decided that the old clay (mud) nests in and around the mission were looking kind of tired and ratty and, in the name of preservation, I shit you not, had them knocked down and swept away, figuring the swallows would just build nice, new clean, mud nests. And, he or she was right. They did. But they built them in the I-5 overpass that runs through the middle of town – several miles from the Mission.
So, every October 23rd (San Juan Day) the swallows leave town. And, every March 19th, The Chamber of Commerce organizes an event and gets everyone to pretend that nothing has changed.
It is all very festive, I am told. With or without the birds.
One more thing about California. I have always heard that the people are weirdos. Even the weirdos is southern California call the people of northern California “Real weirdos” like they know it is true but still want to be distanced from their upstate brethren.
And, so far, it is true. For instance, they preface interstates with “the” like they all attended Ohio State or something.
“Take the 10”, or “Get on the 5” they say.
What’s up with that? I would never tell someone to take The 95 or the 495 or even the 70.
Trixie might, tho. She’s kind of a weirdo.