Swallows

Swallows & Martins on the move

Summer visit almost over

“The preparation” – Pastel & Charcoal sketch 2023

As September begins, a sure sign that summer is coming to a close is the change we see in the patterns of the Swallows and House martins. A subtle change that accompanies the transition of the light.

Their early morning flight in large groups, their congregating on telegraph lines, their loud chitter chatter – all signalling that they will be departing soon for distant shores.

For me there is a sadness that accompanies this time, captured in the lines of Mary Webb’s poem:

Within my spirit is a voice that grieves,

Reminding me of empty autumn skies.
“Swallows” by Webb, M. (1930) The collected works of Mary Webb. Poems and The Spring of Joy. London: Jonathon Cape, 1928.

In a small attempt to celebrate these wonderful migrant visitors that bring such joy every year, I have put together a short video clip. It is fairly basic, using limited equipment/resources, but for me it catches something of the anticipatory mood inherent in the “jubilant” activities of these beautiful birds.

Video clip: Swallows and Martins on the move

Chattering cheerfully

Twitter …natter …chatter

For the last month – or more – we’ve been hearing the cheerful chatter of martins and swallows at the front and back of the house. Flying high overhead in the clear blue skies, skimming low over crops in nearby fields, and swooping and turning with dynamic aerobatics, down and up to their nests in the eaves. Their characteristic twittering, uttered on the wing, is even more pronouced as they land on, or enter into the nest.

This year we are “fortunate” to have a nest right outside our bedroom window! So in the early hours, when they are busy catching insects and returning to the nest to feed their young, we are treated to the sound of their constant nattering. I wonder what they are “saying”?

SOME SERIOUS TWITTERING

Welcome arrivals

Flight is our life

The new beginnings associated with Easter are always accompanied in April/May by a sense of anticipation in nature; awaiting the sighting of the first House Martins or Swallows. I say sighting, but sometimes it is the awareness of their excitable “chatter”. It never fails to bring a feeling of jubilance, in the knowledge that these migrants have returned to build or re-build their homes for the summer.

It is a profound feeling that resonates deeply. This year it was on Good Friday that I was aware the blue sky had received those welcome dark shadows, flying rapidly in apparent purposeful endeavour. The depth of this event is, for me, beautifully encapsulated in the poem by Mary Webb published in 1928.

The swallows pass in restless companies.
Against the pink-flowered may, one shining breast
Throbs momentary music – then, possessed
With motion, sweeps on some new enterprise.
Unquiet in heart, I hear their eager cries
And see them dart to their nests beneath the eaves;
Within my spirit is a voice that grieves,
Reminding me of empty autumn skies.
Nor can we rest in Nature’s dear delight:
June droops to winter, and the sun droops west.
Flight is our life. We build our crumbling nest
Beneath the dark eaves of the infinite,
We sing our song in beauty’s fading tree,
And flash forth, migrant, into mystery.

by Mary Webb

Reference: Webb, M. (1930) The collected works of Mary Webb. Poems and The Spring of Joy. London: Jonathon Cape, 1928.