Cliff swallows find homes gone The Clark Street cliff swallows returned this week, to find that the delicate mud nests they built and maintained on the underside of the bridge were all gone. It surely wasn't the biggest event in the human sphere here at home, but it was a poignant reminder that human deeds have consequences for other living beings. The Clark Street bridge project, it turns out, wreaked havoc with the lives of thousands of those little cigar-shaped birds capable of aerial acrobatics that human airplanes can only approximate. Distressed, the swallows winged about the downtown in a frenzy, massing on building facades as if in search of something they knew should be there, but wasn't, then moving to another building, then another. They were feathery refugees on a sunny spring day. Cliff swallows are so named because they've historically built their gourd-like nests on the sides of cliffs. In today's world, they've found the outside of buildings and the undersides of bridges to their liking. Like other swallow species, they return en masse from wintering grounds in places like South America. Nancy Stevenson, a longtime Stevens Point area bird watcher, says she and colleague Vince Heig have wondered for weeks about the fate of the Clark Street colony. These birds really hone in on home. They live for three or four years, she says, and are so precise about their habits that they will return to the same exact nest year after year, repairing when they can and moving only by necessity. Their offspring return to the same sites, too, and build new nests in the colony if there's room. Otherwise, they move on. In that sense, the Clark Street swallows had a generational link to their old home. Nancy hopes that this colony finds new quarters. You can't put a sign up directing them to the new Highway HH bridge, but she's hopeful that they take to that structure. The Clark Street swallows are fending for themselves at the moment, a trait that creatures in the wild have in their survival arsenal. Cliff swallows often move as one. Nancy tells the story of a great colony at Grandfather Dam on the Wisconsin River, north of Merrill. It's one of the largest colonies in Wisconsin, and she recalls a trip there years back to view the birds. Not a single one was there. They were out feeding. In a short time, a huge mass of swallows returned home, and what a sight it was, she says. Swallows of different species will gather at time of movement. Witnesses have seen tens of thousands lined up on power lines along the Wisconsin River north of town as summer wanes. The next day, they're all gone, headed South. The little drama in downtown Stevens Point this week didn't make headlines. It wasn't the top TV or radio news story. But in its own way, it was no small matter. – Bill Berry