The Screecher 



THE sooty black swift, with his scythe-shaped wings, 

 is often called by countryfolk the " screecher," from 

 his harsh note, that wild scream heard as he races with 

 others through the air. 



He is a favourite with country people, and many 

 a humble cottage makes him welcome to its eaves. 

 To the old home he returns with great regularity 

 year after year early in May, the exact date usually 

 only varying by a day or two, according to the weather. 

 And should he come no more, he is hardly missed, as 

 his descendants come in his place to carry on the old 

 tradition of the home. 



In a little downland village in Sussex, associated 

 with Alfred the Great, an old cottager has harboured 

 some six pairs of swifts under the eaves through sixty 

 summers and more, and likes to think that his swifts 

 are the descendants of those who went swooping 

 through the hamlet when Alfred the Great was its lord 

 of the manor. 



It might seem surprising that if one family of swifts 

 is faithful, generation after generation, to one place, 

 their numbers should not increase appreciably that 

 if there are six nests one year there should only be six 

 the next year. Swifts, one would say, have few 

 enemies, living as they do always in the air, except 



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