Flight

Is there anyone who, as a child, never imagined they could fly like a swift? On light evenings near midsummer leaning out of the window well past bedtime when grown ups downstairs thought you were asleep the superfast screamers were a glimpse of freedom much to be envied. The swift is a late arrival and early departer but tends to come into its own just as the cuckoos quieten down or even leave for other places. Late June is when you notice that bird song has lost some of its vitality and competitive edge. So displays of virtuoso flight offer compensation though not for music lovers: the swift's screech is its most unlovely aspect.