Swift Diaries
The End of the Party?
A neighbour came up to us. We were sitting on our front steps, waiting for two swifts to tuck themselves into a crack in the wall. We tell him about the imminent arrivals. ‘There used to be loads of swifts on the street. We had nesting swifts! They used to fly in around the side of our house.’ He looks up at the crumbling brickwork just beneath the roof. ‘But then we had squirrels in the roof as well’.
I sometimes try to imagine a street full of nesting swifts. What would it look and sound like? How would it feel? This week it felt like we were loitering at the tail-end of a party, the moment you acknowledge, hollow glass in hand, the room is almost empty, and the DJ is playing a last ‘prescribed’ song, before the silence kicks in.
The conversation with our neighbour shed some light on what happens. You get squirrels in your roof, so you fix the roof. By fixing the roof you also fix the swifts. You might get a swift box to try to ameliorate the situation, but that doesn’t mean to say they’ll come back.
This week, even with this constant heat, swifts have been few and far between during daylight hours. I got up early this morning (Saturday) to catch them before they disappeared for the day. They made a first appearance at about 6.30am. There were four birds silently swinging between Bradley Street and the main road. A little later they were at roof-top level, intermittently screaming their wares.
Last night I had to wait until after 9pm to catch sight of ‘our’ returning pair. I heard lots of other bird-chatter through the day - but not the aural calligraphy of swift-song (which I’d interpret as a long thin straight line followed by a stroke that loops and bends back on itself).
I’m waiting to see if we get a ‘second wave’ this year. Three swifts are flashing above me as I write. Will they be joined by their brethren, or will it be a quiet June and July?
Here are the diary entries from notes I have posted this week:
24th May
I’m too late, when I walk down the hill to the pub, to catch the Walkley swifts. This time last year there were trails of them as I walked down into the valley, looping over the trees and terrace houses in that curve between light and dusk.
25th May
A slab of heat, the hottest day of the year. Swifts disappear for most the day. They’re back late afternoon: at some distances and angles their edges blur into light - they tip from clean lines to smudged feathers and back again.
26th May
The swifts are doing this trick where a pair of them swing around the front of the house and - as they come back into view seconds later - there’s now three tensed things swerving in formation.
27th May
I’m trying to write a poem at the moment about encountering swifts in the morning. A lot of the time I see swifts it’s in the evening - like tonight, sitting out front. One has just entered the nest (going from low to high) early-ish - despite the heat it’s now a chilly evening. The second swift comes in thirty minutes later. Swooping in over the telephone lines - fast, direct.
28th May
Three swifts hover for a time above our house. Black/brown depending on the light and angle. When they tip their wings they turn white, like they are filling up, only to leak out again when they straighten.
29th May
In spite of the heat, there are a lack of swifts all day. They bookend the day: I see them early morning in glimpses, and tonight I’ve waited until after 9pm to catch three of them patrolling the outer reaches of the neighbourhood.
30th May
I’m out at 6.30am to watch swifts glide silently over our patch of sky before they leave for the day. Four swifts, then three - stick around for half an hour, turning silver then brown then silver again - before they head further uphill, vanishing from sight.