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and when spread like a fan the tips of the feathers are in a straight 
line. The bird makes great use of its tail when twisting and 
turning after flies. The Swifts are fond of playing the game 
of follow-my-leader. One will fly up to the eaves of the Church, 
cling to the wall for an instant, then fall away and off over the 
tombs, and the others in turn will do exactly the same, and 
they seem to be laughing the whole time. They will fly as near 
as they can without touching to anything that interests them, and 
I have often felt the wind of their rush as they passed, and once 
in the Churchyard I touched one with my hand. But I could never 
catch them with a landing-net, they were too quick, unless they 
were just entering their nests. The speed with which this was 
done was startling. As I stood under the Church eaves I would 
see a bird hawking above the level of the nest. It would then 
fly out some distance from the Church to get up speed, and then, 
when opposite to, though still higher than, its nest, it would swoop 
down below and shoot up into it. As it neared the nest the 
wings were gradually closed, there was a “ whsh ” through the 
air and the bird was inside the hole without the slightest attempt 
to pull up. I suppose they know that feathers make good buffers. 
Cold weather will numb them, and if it continues will 
eventually kill them, but they are able to fast for a long time. 
I have had a Swift in the Church for five days before it grew 
weak enough for me to catch, and then when I had given it 
some water it flew away apparently none the worse. The Swifts 
have two parasites to plague them, one a small, flat, brown louse, 
which I am told bites horribly. I have not personally experienced 
this bite as there are some things which I prefer to take on trust. 
The other parasite is one of the Hippoboscidse (Stenopterix 
hirundinis) nearly allied to the Forest Fly which infests the 
ponies in the New Forest, and much like the parasite which is 
found on grouse. They are uncanny, three-cornered creatures 
and can run backwards, forwards and sideways, and if you re¬ 
move one from the Swift it will pull the feather out sooner than 
let go with its hooked claws. I found a Swift one dav clinging 
to a corner of the roof of the nave and I knew that something 
was wrong, so I had a ladder brought and sent up a man to 
bring the bird down. And I took eight of these parasites off it 
and it went away rejoicing. But it had quite given up hope 
before and would have died. 
But the most wonderful thing of all about the Swifts is that 
they roost in the air. At sunset on a fine evening they assemble 
and play about for some time, flying separately and darting about 
in all directions. Gilbert White, in his monograph on the Swift 
in the Natural History of Selborne, says: “ Just before they 
retire whole groups of them assemble high in the air, and squeak 
and shoot about with wonderful rapidity.” It is strange that he 
did not see what followed. They end in gathering into a flock 
with their heads pointing in the same direction and ascending in 
