Picture this: 18 tidy little wooden clubhouses lining the fairways of Kahite Golf Course. No membership fees, no POA drama - just prime spring real estate for our feathered pros.
In spring 2025, they stood like empty tee boxes at sunrise, waiting for the season’s first daring players to take a swing.
Before the greens even shrugged off their frosty blankets, local bluebirds - decked out in electric blue and orange - stormed the fairways. Their message was clear: “This course is ours.” Box #13 was snapped up first, followed by #9, #8, and others, as if they were playing a precise round of golf guided by some invisible caddie.
Meanwhile, a single early traveler swallow zipped in like a high-speed golf cart on a downhill slope, claiming Box #14 before the bluebirds could even say, “Fore!” He strutted on top like a club champion, singing his heart out for a mate… and sang… and sang. Sadly, no partner arrived in time. When he finally fell silent, his song became part of the box’s foundation, and Box 14 would later host six fledglings - a bittersweet birdie.
By mid-April, bluebird boxes were filling faster than the clubhouse on dollar beer night. Some couples went bold - like the Box #13 pair, laying seven eggs early. Only four hatched, but all fledged. Par for the course. Box #9 played it safe: four eggs, four fledged. A clean sweep.
Tree swallows, the daredevils of the fairway, weren’t so lucky. Box #3 became a snake snack bar overnight, hatchlings lost before they could take their first flight. Lesson learned: No matter how fearless your dive, predators play through.
Box #5 should’ve been prime real estate - great view, perfect tee shot from the par 3. Instead, it turned into a snake’s practice green. Noel guards weren’t enough, so the grounds crew (ahem, bird team) upgraded to a full baffle system. No takers after that incident. Maybe next year.
Boxes #3, #4, and #5 were all declared “Snake Country,” now armed with more hardware than a pro golfer’s bag. Even swallows in #17 and #18 were targeted, while bluebirds largely defended their turf.
What about the Club Champions and Course Favorites?
Box 8, 13, and 7 are your undisputed champions—perfect rounds, no missed shots, no lost eggs. These boxes are the Augusta greens of the bird world, where bluebirds reign like seasoned pros.
For years, bluebirds have owned boxes #2, #7, #8, #11, #13, and #15. Swallows don’t even step up to the tee here; those bright blue feathers hold the deed.
Box 14? That’s the Swallow Sanctuary, their home course, claimed season after season. The bluebirds don’t even bother—maybe the yardage doesn’t suit their swing.
And Box 1 leans swallow, too. Here, the swallows consistently outdrive their bluebird rivals, turning this box into their own clubhouse corner.
The season ended with a flourish at Box #15. On August 24, a proud bluebird mom stood on the Noel guard, insect in beak, calling encouragement to her last chick. She didn’t deliver dinner - oh no, this was a pep talk. Like a golf coach whispering, “You’ve got this, kid,” she coaxed her fledgling to take flight.
By dawn on August 25, the box was empty, fledglings in the trees, season complete. Scorecard signed.
The Kahite Nest Box Open was a mix of triumphs, heartbreaks, and lessons learned. Swallows brought speed and flair but took the brunt of predator attacks. Bluebirds played a steady game, claiming early boxes and defending them with gusto. Snake hazards forced hardware upgrades, and one brave swallow’s sacrifice paved the way for new life in Box #14.
Golfers walked the fairways, some unaware that alongside them played an avian tournament: drives, approaches, birdies (literally), and the occasional bogey courtesy of a black snake. Others knew better. To them, the course wasn’t just manicured grass and well-placed hazards; it was a living stage where tiny dramas played out in nest boxes, each hole a story of courage, heartbreak, and triumph in miniature.
Next spring, the Nest Boxes will open to new tenants again. The tees reset. Who will claim the course next year? Place your bets - this tournament is far from over.
