Weighing only as much as 40 paperclips, the swift is an impressively noisy creature. Circulating my home like airborne maniacs, a quintet of them are noisily darting past my window. The fluctuating intensity of their cries corresponds to their rapid top-speed movements, a characteristic which classes them as the world’s quickest birds in horizontal flight, creating a rather dizzying auditory experience.
However, silence descends swiftly. The monogamous adult pairs arrive from Africa within the initial fortnight of May. Faithfully, they return to the same nesting space they’ve occupied throughout their existence. By the middle of August, after the final offspring has departed, the parents commence a serene journey back to their central African home. They don’t delay in commencing this journey, journeying up to an impressive 830km in a 24 hour period.
Counting myself as rather lucky, my association with swifts is long-standing, much like many others throughout metropolitan Ireland. For many years, these birds have maintained their nests beneath the roof edge of my home. But their impressive velocity in entering or exiting their nest beneath the gutter sometimes gives me pause, leading me to question their very existence up there at times. The absence of any alert indicating their imminent flight into the nest, coupled with their rapid disappearance, makes it easy to overlook them.
I did however closely observe them once. After I’d spent a few days away from home, I returned to find a swift perched on an upstairs window ledge. Accidentally, it seemed to have flown through an open window beneath the roof edge on its return to the nest. As short stubby legs characterise these airborne creatures – quite ineffectual for much else – it remained motionless, staring outside. Noticing its dehydration-induced panting, I gave it a cotton ball soaked in water to suck on. It gulped down the water and in about 40 seconds, was revitalised. I opened the window from below and it made a speedy exit.
Eliminating rhododendrons may not be a glamorous task but it’s crucial to salvage the natural environment. If conscientious efforts are made to purify it, The Dodder holds the potential to rise to the ranks of the most splendid metropolitan rivers in the European continent.
In previous writings, I’ve discussed the mesmerising existence of swifts, their life predominantly spent in flight. These fascinating creatures perform all their daily activities airborne, including sleeping, eating and breeding. In the first three years of their life, before they enter the breeding age, they don’t touch the ground once. The only time they come close to land is to swoop down towards a lake, their beaks open to create resistance and decrease speed as they scout the water surface. Following this, they fill their bellies and ascend once more, their distinct forked profiles shadowy against the heavens.
Swifts, akin to salmons, maintain loyalty to their breeding locations, returning to the same nest year after year. However, the world changes drastically in the nine-month gap they spend in Africa. With urban renovations, their habitual nesting locations often get unintentionally barred. One of the consequences of this destruction of their habitation has caused a catastrophic 50% population decrease in the past quarter-century, placing swifts on the list of endangered species. The situation is drastically different from the written account in 1936 of “hundreds of swifts” orbiting a house in Powerscourt, Co Wicklow, prior to moving towards Greystones. In contemporary times, witnessing even 10 swifts simultaneously is a rare sight.
Swifts’ survival prospects are intricately linked with our urban lifestyles, and the preservation of their species requires provision of nooks within structures to breed. Though these necessary gaps might create conflicts with insulation projects, cost-effective alternatives exist. “Swift nest bricks” are hollow bricks with a small entrance that can be incorporated into new construction and provide enduring nesting places.
Additionally, nest boxes can be attached to building exteriors. A few years ago, I installed boxes, crafted by Stephan de Beer from Kerry, on my house and my children’s primary school. Considering that swifts are highly sociable creatures and enjoy being in one another’s company, playing a continuous recording of their call near the box can pique the interest of juvenile swifts. They map out the site for future nesting, frequently brushing against the cavity in the process.
The potential in public establishments like sports venues, religious centres, libraries, and local government offices for housing swift boxes and bricks has been recognised. This summer saw Patrick Earls, a volunteer for Swift Conservation Ireland, establishing 34 homes for swifts on the exterior of four Dublin primary schools; these included St Mark’s in Tallaght, St Louise’s in Ballyfermot, the Harold School in Glasthule and Scoil Íosagáin in Crumlin. Following a successful pilot in Cork schools, this initiative received funding from Gas Networks Ireland and civil engineering entity, Murphy. In Patrick’s words, “It’s extraordinary observing the nimble swifts during a summer evening on Dublin’s South Circular Road…especially considering that a month or so ago, they were soaring over the Serengeti or the Congo River in equatorial Africa.”
Shortly, the swift couples will part ways, flying back to Africa, only to reunite in spring. The impending silence in the skies stirs a sense of dread, as it signals the nearing of autumn. However, as the colder months approach, there’s something heartwarming about envisaging the swifts soaring over the Congo River’s origin, in pursuit of airborne termite swarms.