Where have al the swallows gone????????????

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 Most years, by now the summer visitors have arrived. We hear them usually when we're mucking out the stables. First one - a scout - arrives to check out the territory. A few days later two or three or more arrive and then suddenly overnight they are everywhere: cherrurp-cheerrup-cheerrrup-cheeeerrurping as they dart here and there, to and fro, round and round investigating possible nesting places. They're like anxious young househunters - checking out little details, not wanting to miss anything; "Quick! Quick! Look! Look!" they seem to call to each other. After a few days' darting about they make up their minds on a suitable des res. Then it's building time: has anyone ever counted the number of journeys it takes a pair of swallows to build their nest? All those beaks full of mud and teensy bits of  vegetation? All that poking and sticking, moulding and smoothing? So very much work.
Sometimes they're here in March, usually in April but never this late before.Often they'll refurbish a nest from a previous year which makes us wonder if they're birds which fledged here: has anyone ever tagged a swallow?

They'll spend the rest of the summer in one place, often raising two or three clutches. We watch their progress and, with it, mark the passing of long, lazy summer days. As the last clutch of fledgelings begins the frantic flying lessons between the beams we know that Autumn has come and, when the last ones leave - suddenly and without ceremony - the silent eaves remind us that winter is not far away.             What will happen if the rain remains and there are no flies? Will the swallows stay away? And if there are no swallows will there still be summer? How shall we remark the passing days? Time won't stand still but how shall we count it off?   

No. The weather will change.

The flies will come and, after them the swallows.

They will, won't they?

Somebody?