Swallows are the essence of summer
It is late April but clearly not yet summertime. As they say, one sighting ‘doth not a summer make’, yet it was on the day that thousands of brave folk set out to run the London Marathon that I spotted my first swallow of the spring.
I must confess that marathon running never appealed to me, not even when I was probably fit enough to run one. But then spending hours trying to combat the searing pace of fast bowlers or the wiles of cunning spin bowlers, would perhaps not seem an attractive option to those who dedicate themselves to plodding their weary way over 26-plus miles of highway! And some do it wearing the most extraordinary costumes!
However, whether you enjoy a game of cricket or flogging yourself over those miles of running, at least we do have a choice!
That first swallow and the millions of others currently making extraordinary journeys from southern Africa into Europe don’t enjoy the luxury of choice. They are impelled by an inbuilt instinct to obey the command to set out on a journey, not of 26 but of around 6000 miles, each and every spring. And then, hopefully having completed that journey and having spent their entire summer nurturing new generations, they have again to set out on the return trip of another 6000 miles! This has been their way of life for hundreds of years ever since the last Great Ice Age thousands of years ago.
We know by observation that swallows are gifted aviators full of athleticism, verve, speed and clearly stamina. Yet the determination to complete those marathon journeys, not to mention the thousands of miles they must fly simply to find enough food to sustain not just themselves during the summer months but also those new generations – two or even three of them - is simply mind boggling.
It is virtually impossible to even begin to understand the difficult weather conditions they may encounter en-route and even harder to visualise some of the physical hazards they must overcome.
On that strength-sapping journey they will have to fly over storm ridden tropical forests, merciless, sun-parched deserts, towering mountain ranges and stormy seas. Almost certainly, the most lifethreatening part of the journey is the vast Sahara Desert, all 1000 miles of it … and growing. As many as half of the swallows that set out on this marathon, may perish on this single leg of their journey. Perhaps that is why swallows attempt to raise two or three broods every summer, as a means of maintaining and sustaining the world’s swallow population.
The phenomenon that is spring migration, involving millions of birds trans-locating vast distances, mostly from south to north across the globe like a giant, feathered tidal wave, is surely one of the wonders of the world. Yet for centuries, it was a phenomenon not understood at all. Indeed, it was widely believed that swallows, like bats and hedgehogs, hibernated. According to Greek philosophers Aristotle and Pliny, they passed the winter hidden in crevices in the rocks.
Others subscribed to the view that they hibernated underwater in the beds of lakes or even on the sea-bed. These beliefs were based on the sight of swallows roosting at night in reed beds but having disappeared at first light had, it was presumed, taken refuge in the mud below.
Further evidence it was claimed, was provided by the massed bodies of swallows which had been overwhelmed by storms whilst crossing the sea, to be subsequently hauled up in the nets of fisher-folk. There were even stories of these swallows, when found, stiff and cold, having revived when taken into a warm room!
I suspect such tales may have owed their origins to the authors of Greek fables although it is now known that in cold weather, swallows sometimes enter a kind of torpor as their body temperature falls in order to conserve energy! However, some more advanced Greek scholars viewed swallows as birds of passage which flew to an unknown land for the winter, perhaps in the way that there was a belief in this country that woodcock migrated to the moon in the springtime!
Observations of swallows off the coast of West Africa around the turn of the 19th century however, transformed the thinking of naturalists and the concept of migration began to dawn. Nowadays, with technology like radar, minuscule radio transmitters and satellite navigation, birds can be tracked in many different ways so the miracle that is bird migration is universally accepted.
There were reports last week of cuckoos being heard and indeed, boys resident on England’s south coast used to mimic the calls of cuckoos as a jape to fuel reports in newspapers, notably, “The Times” of the year’s first such bird to be heard! As reported a couple of weeks ago, ospreys and chiff chaffs have signalled the arrival here of the year’s first migrants yet in my mind, it is the sighting of that first swallow that really sets the heart a beating. They are simply our ‘summer birds’!
The burnished, bronzed forehead and throat of the swallow, gave it a special place in ancient Christian folklore for it was said that it plucked a thorn from the brow of Jesus on the cross. Hence the bronzing represents the blood of Christ. Mind you, there are similar stories about the robin! However, this is but one of several tales from different cultures that make the swallow so universally hallowed.
As the days grow longer, hopefully more of them will decorate the overhead wires like some gigantic musical score. And, they will fill the skies with their fantastic gyrations. These familiar, long tailed, ‘bluebirds’ on scimitar wings, speeding, dipping, diving and hurtling through the air like aerial Usain Bolts are indeed the essence of our summer!
Surely, no bird greets impending summer with so much verve. It swoops to conquer ‘hoovering’ up countless flying insects as it zips through the sky, low and ground-hugging in poor, low pressure weather but soaring aloft in good conditions when high pressure dominates, as they follow the flies. Furthermore, the twittering voices of male swallows as they serenade their mates, whilst perhaps not matching other songsters in tone and melody, is nevertheless I submit, comforting and smile inducing.
Without doubt, this is very definitely one of my favourite birds and better late than never. Welcome at last!
As the days grow longer, hopefully more of them will decorate the overhead wires like some gigantic musical score