Homeless

A pair of barn swallows decided our back porch would be a place to call home. They set to work without losing a moment. 

We sat outside with our morning coffee as they pirouetted in flight, a dizzying full-time job of gathering twigs, dirt, and grass. 

Soon enough they had a nest complete with eggs and before I could blink, four sets of tiny eyes were peering out at me.

The pirouetting took on a new frenzy as the parents brought food to place in the hungry mouths of their young. The chicks’ beaks were wide open in ‘feed me’ mode all day long and the dedicated parents obligingly complied. 

At times, one bird would guard while the other went shopping. Our cat Olive was often on the prowl and I would detect their ‘alert-danger’ tweet when Olive came too close. 

One day, the babies were perched on a light near the nest; it was time for flying lessons and they were fast learners. They would fly to the nearest branch, rest, and come home. When they became expert flyers, they even dive bombed Olive the cat, a reckless act typical of the brazen young with new-found freedom and too much confidence.

In our present world of sadness and tension, this became my happy nature success saga: a devoted pair of swallows build a home together and hatch four fledglings, creating a beautiful, healthy, and safe family unit. 

And then the nest fell down. I came home and saw a mat of feathers and straw on the deck right outside my back door. The barn swallows were sadly perched on a nearby tree, trying to go home to no home. They could not believe it was no longer there. 

Nature often echoes human reality. Israel is experiencing almost seven months of homelessness. A day after the October 7 massacre, Hezbollah started targeting Israeli villages and towns along the northern border by launching rockets, suicide drones, and infiltrating raids. Fearing a repeat of the tragedy, the army evacuated 28 communities within two kilometers of the border, causing approximately 100,000 people to be homeless.

And this is just the north. Communities near the Gaza border were also evacuated and many families moved into hotels. Entire cities like Sderot in the south and Kiryat Shemona in the north became ghost towns with the total count of displaced Israelis peaking around 200,000. 

After nearly seven months, the hostages are still imprisoned, rockets are launched daily at Israeli civilians, and many people are walking around dazed without a permanent place to call home. Some civilians in the south have returned home, however, in the north the tension grows daily.

The once vibrant and beautiful mountainous northern communities are now places with empty, dusty homes, silent classrooms, and lonely playgrounds. The abandoned fruit orchards are filled with weeds.

Pre Oct 7 - pastoral life of a goat herder in the mountains

One family from the north is living in our backyard, glamping-style in a simple trailer. They too have been displaced for over six months and have had to move three times; first to a hotel near the Kinneret, then to a yurt, and now to our small ‘farm.’ 

When they came to our place, their 11-year-old daughter, already well-versed in her new nomadic life said, “Guess we will be here for a few months and then we’ll have to move again.”

They evacuated in a total panic and under siege of rockets, taking whatever they could fit into their car: clothes, a few toys and books for the kids, and their precious blender. They have since been back to get a few things, including Purim costumes and now summer clothes. Who would have thought this would continue for so long?

On one such trip back home, they discovered a huge hole in the ground between their house and a neighbor. It was a hit by a rocket and it was a miracle that neither house was damaged. The neighbor took the scrap metal from the rocket and forged it into a shovel, quoting the bible (Isaiah chapter 2, verse 4) “and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.”

The mother of our evacuated family shrugged her shoulders. “I always wanted to plant a tree in that spot. So now there is a huge hole, I won’t have to dig.” She was too upset by the smell of rotting food in her fridge that had no power and spent most of her short visit back home scrubbing it out.

This family, along with other community members, moved their children’s school, set up a school bus and tried to continue living a regular routine life. But this is not home and this is not how they choose to live or want to live. 

On a tiny micro-scale nature echoes this right outside our door. Those barn swallows now want to go home but have no place to call home. I wondered what they would do that first night in the dark and scary wild, but they survived. Come dawn, they started to build again in the same place. 

Upon closer inspection of their favored spot, we realized their original nest had been lodged across one small nail. “Bad engineering and unsafe,” Amir commented as he dislodged the nail, the bird nest’s foundation. “I’ll build them a bird house,” he decided.

The birds sat on a branch as the tools came out. It ended up being a family event when my son-in-law and grandsons pitched in. After some sawing and hammering, they held up a beautiful bird house; a mansion ready for move in with no dirt or construction required. They hung it up under a rafter on the porch. We watched and waited. 

This bird family would not consider this fancy mansion even for a moment. They wanted to be back where they started their home and kept on trying to rebuild in that same spot, now without even a nail for a foundation.

Out came the hammer and saw and Amir set to work again. He built them another house and placed it where they wanted to be, securing it in place with a few nails. 

The barn swallows were curious. After a day or so, we saw straw sticking out the side. And this morning, Amir sat with his coffee and was greeted by four baby faces peering out a him from their new, secure home.

Meanwhile, our 18 rescue chickens from the north are so comfortable, they are eating everything in my flower beds, scratching at the earth, uprooting any plant that crosses their path, and pecking at the succulents. They too now feel at home.

I pray for happy endings just like this. I pray for peace and security in a region where, in addition to 100,000 homeless northern Israelis, there are another 100,000 Lebanese who fled their homes in the south and well over a million Gazans without stability. 

And I pray for all honest, peace-loving people to soon return to a community, a place where parks will be filled with playful kids and orchards bountifully filled with peaches, pears, and cherries.

And he shall judge between the nations and reprove many peoples, 
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares 
and their spears into pruning hooks; 
nation shall not lift the sword against nation, 
neither shall they learn war anymore.
Yeshayahu (Isaiah), ch. 2, v.4