"Last night, after 9pm, was rather lovely for swifts above the village. There seem to be a regular seven or eight that hang out and scream together. This morning, they are wheeling and whirring away again, seemingly delighted by the humid, insect-laden air.

As they break off into smaller groups of three, four or two, then rise, reform, break away and dive at speed, they make me think of the Red Arrows (seen so recently at Trooping the Colour). But the swifts really are swifter: more agile, more spontaneous, and leaving no visible trace in the sky.

A whistling echo, a stunning swirl of air, a slicing streak of boomerang vectors, and an upturned face full of wonder."

- Francesca (Bradwell)