Bog Myrtle & Peat

Now all the swallows have vanished. The great bulk of them moved south around a fortnight ago, but I have been holding off mentioning it until the last few stragglers headed off as well. The first birds arrived at the Chayne on April 10th, the day of the Grand National, a fortnight before I had found the first blackcock on the farm. It seems like a long time ago now, but during the long dry summer, the swallows became part and parcel of daily life up on the hill.

Over the last few days, the remaining few have been building up along telephone cables and dyke tops. Now they have departed en masse. Just ten days ago, I was watching parent birds feeding a yellow beaked youngster on a wall opposite my house. I was recently told that if swallow chicks are not up to the incredible six and a half thousand mile journey across Europe and Africa, they often fail to set off and usually die as the first frosts begin. This youngster was clearly on the fine threshold between being able to go the distance and not, and I have fingers crossed for him.

Greenland wheatears and swallows have equally massive migrations, and as they all set off south, I wonder how long it will take these tiny birds to reach their far flung destinations.