CHIMNEY SWIFTS, AHOY!

 

Ever since we got to Michigan I’ve noticed a great deal of chimney swifts flying around. They resemble bats in the air but are more bullet-shaped – kind of a cross between a bat and a boomerang. They are the most Machine Age Art Deco birds. They have been in every Midwestern city we’ve visited, seeming to follow our bus. When I notice them in the sky I feel a twinge of delight. They are so fast and nimble. I associate them with late 1800s/ early 1900s mammoth brick buildings – old hospitals, warehouses, schools, factories, breweries, etc. They love buildings that are only inches apart. They are birds who cannot roost but hang or cling to the sides of brick structures. They used to roost in dead hollow trees but now bed down almost exclusively in old chimneys. The bigger the chimney, the more swifts.

Which brings me to the reason I’m writing this. If you are fortunate enough to know where swifts roost or happen to be high up and chance to see out a window and notice them gathering on the wing at dusk you are in for a treat. They form funnel columns that suddenly disperse then come back together larger than before like little tornadoes midair. They seem to pulse and breathe like a monster forming and unraveling at the same time. Is this aerial perfection made of hive mind and supernatural physical ability? The skills they are born with are nothing short of heart-stopping. Even a small version with just 50 or so birds will hypnotize you. Grey as dust, they become a weather system before your eyes. They gather like this right before they are ready to roost for the night. 

If you have ever been to Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico and sat in the little rocky amphitheater to watch the Mexican free-tailed bats leave the caves in thick black columns backlit by the sunset, you likely remember their opening band “the swifts” circling the mouth of the cave in greater and greater numbers just a little more quietly impressive before suddenly passing the baton to the night shift of bats, who pour out like the smoke of a four-alarm fire. The swifts make one last pulsating Slinky shape into the cave, blending in with the bats as they trade places. What a show! What a visual feast! It is impossible to focus on one thing, and it even messes with your depth of field and balance a little if you stare too hard. But don’t take my word for it. If you live in an old area of town with tall brick buildings, look into the sky at dusk and see if you can spot some little boomerang tornadoes :)

What tiny or not-so-tiny shows of nature thrill you where you live?