The swallows are leaving.

Over my garden clouds of swallows and house martins are swooping and feeding and leaving. The scimitared winged swifts have already gone and now the rest are going too.
We live on an extraordinary migration path and birds are funneled through our village as they fly along the Rhine valley and come up against the first folds of the Jura mountains. The skies are full of their chattering as they regroup to fly all the way to Africa chasing the sun and the insects.

I will miss them.

“The swallow of summer, the seamstress of summer,
She scissors the blue into shapes and she sews it..”

from            Work and Play   by Ted Hughes

 

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