Every year, I always eagerly await the arrival of the swallows. They usually arrive in April and settle under the bridges first. It’s always a joy to be driving and see the first flock of swallows setting up shop, making sure everything is ship shape for the coming summer. They swoop and dive, darting in and out, an intricate dance. The most amazing part? I’ve never seen a collision, their flight perfectly choreographed to down to the last bird.
A few weeks later, the barn swallow arrive, letting us know that winter is truly over. Barns are suddenly filled with chaos and activity, unsuspecting cats often get dive bombed at this point, the swallows furious scolding filling the air. Although a few cats try to swipe back and take out their attackers, success is almost non-existent. In fact, most felines slink of in ignominious defeat, off to sulk for a few hours and repair their tattered dignity.
Every year, we wait for the swallows.
The Seeker Files 