Polly Pullar takes a lighthearted look at rural life
Renowned nature writer Polly Pullar takes a lighthearted look at rural life.
FOR as far back as I can remember, the annual return of the first swallows in spring has been a moment for celebration. We love swallows and see them as a British bird – our bird.
This year, I cannot help thinking that the return of swallows and martins to our skies will be welcomed with even more glee than usual.
Following the gloom of a long period of uncertainty when the pandemic shattered our lives, we need hope more than ever. Swallows spell hope.
Perhaps we don’t realise that people in the Southern Hemisphere eagerly await their return, too.
Once they have bred here, these gorgeous members of the Hirondine family, weighing approximately 18 grams, intrepidly set forth on their long migratory routes back to the African continent.
There, once again, they will find summer is just beginning. It would be fair to say that the swallow is a bird of perpetual spring and summer.
I have always recorded the dates of the return of our swallows, just as I do with the first frogspawn.
Of course, living this far north in Scotland means my date is later than first sightings from southern parts of the country.
In recent years, swallow numbers have dwindled.
Ten years ago we had half a dozen pairs nesting around the buildings on our farm, but last year we only had one and, devastatingly, they failed to breed.
They arrived late and seemed to have several false starts.
Unlike house martins, which will nest under the eaves, swallows prefer to be undercover.
They have always favoured the old bothy next to the house and most years rear two or three broods.
They quickly refurbish an old nest in the rafters or build a new one.
Usually swallows lay two to five eggs, and the chicks hatch around two weeks later.
Then the adults must work tirelessly to feed the fast-growing brood.
We relish watching them swooping low over the long grasses in our fields and the nearby meadow, catching insects stirred up by horses, sheep or cattle, and over the ponds to drink and catch more insects.
Swallows feed and drink entirely on the wing and their long, slender bodies, narrow wings and dramatic tail streamers enable them to hawk skilfully in mid-air.
These little globetrotters face so many issues – climate change and the loss of valuable refuelling stops on their journeys across Europe and the African continent, an increase in severe storms and a catastrophic decline in insects due to pesticides.
A wealth of folklore and superstition surrounds the swallow.
Early naturalists were convinced that, as they had disappeared by early autumn, swallows and martins were hibernating in the mud at the bottom of ponds.
Others believed that they flew to the moon.
The Ancient Egyptians associated swallows with the souls of the departed and placed mummified specimens in tombs.
At sea, sailors thought that when one of them drowned a swallow would swoop down and pick up his soul. Swallows were often chosen as tattoo designs.
These lovely birds feature widely in literature and poetry, are a frequent subject for artists and photographers and are Austria and Estonia’s national bird.
“Friend” readers rallied to the cause when I wrote about the horrendous trend of netting hedgerows and supermarket trolley parks to stop birds, including swallows, nesting in them.
A little bird mess on your trolley is a small price to pay for the pleasure of seeing a swallow rearing its brood.
Please keep your eyes out this year and report any such evil doings. Birds need all the help we can give.
I recently read Stephen Moss’s enchanting biography, “The Swallow”.
Not only is it a delightful read full of fascinating information and anecdotes, but the illustrations are glorious, too – a perfect little book to cheer the heart during these troubled times.
Next time you watch swallows, remember that summer without them would not be summer at all. ■
We’ll take another “Breath Of Country Air” in May 29 issue.