Autumn has arrived. I am sat on a wall on Hilbre
Island enjoying the mellow feeling of the first days of the new season.
The sun is warm but not scorching, the breeze gentle.
Everywhere I look it seems the Patch is starting to unwind from the frenzy of
summer. The grass is golden, seeds are setting, shrubs are fast becoming what
gardeners describe as “leggy”. Things are slowing down. So am I. I am really
rather relaxed.
For many the end of summer means a return to
school. Shorts and sandals are being swapped
for uniform and new school shoes. Buckets and spades replaced by textbooks and
pencil cases. There are still signs of summer here though. Swallows are zipping
across the cobalt sky above me. This year I have paid close attention to
Swallows.
I have a liking and admiration for this species, the arrival of the
first on Patch in March is a happy day. They always sound cheerful, like they
know they are the bringing summer, the easy season, with them.
I’ve
lost whole afternoons transfixed as the adults hunt insects over meadows that
softly sway in a summer breeze, marvelling at their ability to catch flies in
daring aerial manoeuvres. I have sat quietly while chicks have waited for a
meal to be delivered and watched as one is brought in, the adults depositing
food into their young’s mouth without landing.
Is it any wonder that I have developed such a soft spot for this
species? Wildlife photography often involves long uncomfortable waits that can all
too often end with no results but I have always found photographing Swallows to
be a productive, thoroughly enjoyable pastime.
In
front of me is a juvenile Swallow sitting on a rusty metal spike waiting for
its parent to return with an insect packed lunch. I am waiting for its parent
too. I want to get a shot of the exchange of food. As I sit and wait I examine
the youngster closely. Its adult plumage is starting to come through although
it is not there fully. It is still a little beige where the adults are white
and its tail streamers are still a little stubby.
Spending
time watching these birds it occurs to me that I have learned much about them,
it is as if I’ve been attending Swallow School. Today the curriculum has
included the following:
A
little Physical Education. I think about the exertions of their long flight
from South Africa to the Patch. What strength and stamina it must take to make
that journey. Then there is a bit of geography. They pass over many countries,
fly across deserts, over rain forests, skirt around mountains and cross seas.
Geography
is followed by double physics and astronomy so I can understand how they
navigate. They use the earth’s magnetic field and the orientation of the stars
to make their way north to our shores. Astounding.
Now
for a little bit of maths, never a favourite subject for me; just how many
insects can these birds catch in a day? Loads it would seem from my
observations today.
Home
economics lessons next, how many bugs do they need to power that flight to the southern
tip of Africa?
As
I ponder these and other Swallow related mysteries an adult swings past with
some lunch for the youngster. It screams for attention…
The
adult duly obliges with some food…
The
juvenile birds hops on to an old sun bleached plank of wood that is falling
away from a derelict old greenhouse. It demands more food. It seems to like
school dinners…
Again the
adult supplies more food.
Then
I see something I have never witnessed before. It seems that perhaps this
youngster is not as keen on its lunch as I first thought.
It
re-opens its mouth, the egg yolk yellow gape is still visible giving away its
young age. It has been given a hover fly by mum or dad but it appears to find
this fly rather unpalatable.
It coughs the fly back up and it alights on the
side of the Swallow’s mouth, dazed, terrified - who knows what emotions (if
any) hover flies have.
The Swallow is determined not to eat its dinner and
shakes its head until the luckiest bug on the Patch - maybe the world - is
flung from its face and flies off.
I
suppose we all have foods we don’t like. For me it is shellfish and tomatoes,
for this Swallow it seems to be hover flies.
These
birds have taught me a lot about avian ecology but I still have a few
unanswered questions. Who teaches these birds to navigate using the stars? The
adults leave for Africa before the chicks do, so how do the youngsters know how
to find their way to South Africa under their own steam? There is no geography
A-level for Swallows.
I
am finding it hard to imagine that in a few weeks from this moment my
Swallow-teen will be many hundreds of miles from here swooping for its own food
over African savannahs. I find myself wondering if it knows what it has to do
yet. What trip it must make for the winter. Is it nervous? The journey ahead is
long and treacherous, with many life lessons to learn.
A
parent swoops down and delicately places some more food for its chick. This
time it eats the lot.
This
young bird has much to discover - just like the children on the mainland
heading back to school now the dog days of summer are over.
No comments:
Post a Comment