Over the last couple of months, every time we went in a couple of the barns here, we would be dive-bombed by small birds, desperate to drive us away so that they could bring up their babies in peace. Their courage, and noise, was extraordinary. Their nests look like papier mache mouldings tucked up between the beams. Then, a few weeks ago, we started seeing the babies beaks wide open sticking up out of the nest and screaming to be fed. A little later, and the babies were practising their flights and I braved the wrath of their dive bombing parents to take this photo of the four babies sitting on the flourescent light tube. It was only a few days later that, once more, the families were gathering on the telephone lines, and preparing for their mass journey towards warmer climates. it's a short childhood for a swallow....
