The Darling Buds of June

Here in Hiroshima, the air is a-tremble with emerging insect life and newborn chickadees that hurl themselves from nests in an attempt to fly. Speeding to school on my little red racer, I have to dodge the abundance of sparrows and little sparrowlings that fossick the paths for food and hop a merry dance under my wheels. Yes, it is a dangerous time of year. Even this morning, on my jittery ride home from the Ladies’ Clinic, I was hit in the head by two massive buzzing insects. The impact was rather like that of tossed pebbles, although furry, and I was nearly knocked off course, but realigned myself in the nick of time, avoiding a collision with the shrubbery.

On my way to the schoolhouse yesterday, I was waiting at the crossroads when a beautiful swallow* swooped and dived at me in an impertinent manner. I looked about me and saw, tucked under a stripy shopfront, a twiggy nest that was wriggling with hissing and chirruping little chicks. Then, on arrival at the schoolhouse, I spotted a sign that warned pedestrians of nearby aggressive, avian parenting styles. Kawaii!

* I have fond memories of swallows dive-bombing the family black labrador, the late Prince, as he lolloped along with his tongue hanging out, completely oblivious to the assault from above.