Spring Reads, Part II: Swifts, a Cuckoo, and a British Road Trip

Despite ongoing worries about biodiversity loss after last year’s drought, I had the most idyllic late spring evening yesterday. On the way home from an evening with Alice Winn hosted by Hungerford Bookshop (more on which anon), I sat at the station awaiting my train. It was 8:30 p.m. and still fully light, warm enough to be comfortable in a jacket, and a cuckoo serenaded me as I watched swifts wheeling by overhead.

For my second instalment of spring-themed reading (see Part I here), I have books about those very birds, one a nonfiction study of a species that is a welcome sign of late spring and summer in Europe, and a novel that takes up the metaphors associated with another notable species; plus a narrative of a circuitous route driven through a British spring.


Swifts and Us by Sarah Gibson (2020)

We first noticed the swifts had returned to Newbury on 29 April. Best of all, we think ‘our’ birds that nested in the space between the roof and rear gutter last year (see footage here) are back. We’ve also installed one swift and two house martin boxes along the wall from the corner, just in case. Swifts are truly amazing for the distances they travel and the almost fully aerial life they lead. They only touch down to breed and otherwise do everything else – eat, sleep, mate – on the wing. I skimmed this book over the course of two springs and learned that the screaming parties you may, if you are lucky, see tearing down your street are likely to be made up of one- or two-year-old birds. Those tending to nestlings will be quieter. (They’ll be ruthless about displacing house sparrows who try to steal their space, so we hope the questing sparrows we saw at the gutter a few weeks before didn’t get as far as nest-building.)

Beaks agape, swifts catch thousands of insects a day and keep them in a bolus in their throat to regurgitate for chicks. The sharp decline in insect numbers is a major concern, as well as the intensification of agriculture, climate change, and new houses or renovations that block up holes birds traditionally nest in. There are multiple species of swift – in southern Spain one can see five types – and in general they are considered to be of least conservation concern, but these matters are all relative in these days of climate crisis. Evolved to nest in cliffs and trees, they now live alongside humans except in rare places like Abernethy Forest near Inverness in Scotland, where they still nest in trees, in holes abandoned by woodpeckers.

Gibson surveys swifts’ distribution and evolution, key figures in how we came to understand them (Gilbert White et al.), and early landmark studies (e.g. David Lack’s in Oxford). She also takes us through a typical summer swift schedule, and interviews some people who rehabilitate and advocate for swifts. Other chapters see her travelling to Italy, Switzerland and Ireland, the furthest west that swifts breed. If you find a grounded swift, she learns from bitter experience, keep it in a box with air holes and give it water on a cotton bud, but don’t feed or throw it up in the air. To release, take it to an open space and hold it on your hand above your head. If it’s ready to fly, it will. The current push to help swifts is requiring that nest blocks or boxes be incorporated in every new home design. (I signed this petition.)

This is a great source of basic information, though some of the background may be more detailed than the average reader needs. If you’re only going to read one book about swifts, I would be more likely to recommend Charles Foster’s The Screaming Sky, a literary monograph, but do follow up with this one. And soon we’ll also have Mark Cocker’s book about swifts, One Midsummer’s Day, which I hope to get hold of. (Public library)

Favourite lines:

“It is their otherness that makes them so fascinating. They touch our lives briefly and then vanish; this is part of their magic.”

“The brevity of their summer stays enhances their hold on our hearts. The season is short, their bold, wild chases over the roofs and high-pitched screams a fleeting experience: they are a metaphor for life itself. We need to act now to ensure these birds will scythe across our skies forever; to keep them in our streets, to keep them in abundance and common. All of us can do something within the compass of our lives to help tilt the balance back in their favour. If the will to do it is there, it can be done.”


Cuckoo by Wendy Perriam (1991)

(We started hearing cuckoos locally last week!) My second by Perriam, after The Stillness The Dancing, and I’ve amassed quite a pile for afterwards. Frances Parry Jones, in her early thirties, is desperate for a baby but her husband, Charles, doesn’t seem fussed. He goes along with fertility treatment but remains aloof like the posh snob Perriam depicts him to be – the opening line is “Typical of Charles to decant his sperm sample into a Fortnum and Mason’s jar.” Their comfortable home in Richmond is cut off from the messy reality of life, as represented by Frances’s friend Viv and her brood.

Frances soon learns why Charles is unenthusiastic about having children: he already has one, a sullen teenager named Magda who lived with her mother in Hungary but has just arrived in London, “a greedy little cuckoo, commandeering the nest.” Though tempted to accept Magda as a replacement child, Frances just can’t manage it. However, they do find common ground through their japes with Ned, a free spirit Frances meets during her brief time as a taxi driver, and Frances starts to imagine how her life could be different. The portraits and sex scenes alike were a little grotesque here. I had to skim a lot to get through it. Here’s hoping for a better experience with the next one. (Secondhand copy passed on by Liz – thank you!)


Springtime in Britain by Edwin Way Teale (1970)

I discovered Teale a few years ago through the exceptional Autumn Across America, the first volume of a quartet illuminating the nature of the four seasons in the USA; he won a Pulitzer for the final book. Here he applied the same pattern across the pond, taking an 11,000-mile road trip around Britain with his wife Nellie. It’s a delight to see the country through his eyes, particularly places I know well (Devon, the New Forest, Wiltshire/Berkshire) or have visited recently (Northumberland). They find the early spring alarmingly cold and wet, but before long are rewarded with swathes of daffodils and bluebells. Several stake-outs finally result in hearing a nightingale. For the most part, the bird life is completely new to them, but he remarks on what North American species the European birds remind him of. “We felt we would travel to Britain just to hear the song thrush and the blackbird,” he maintains.

Nellie develops pneumonia and has to convalesce in Kent, but otherwise personal matters hardly come into the narrative. Teale is well versed in English nature writing and often references classics by the likes of John Clare and Gilbert White that inspired destinations. (They spend an excessive number of days on their pilgrimage to White’s Selborne.) He also reports on perceived threats of the time, such as small animals getting stuck in littered milk bottles. While it was, inevitably, a little distressing to think of the abundance and diversity he was still experiencing in the late 1960s that has since been lost to development, I mostly found this a pleasant meander. Some things never change: the magic of prehistoric sites; the grossness of some cities (“we forgot the misadventure of Slough”). (Secondhand)

What signs of late spring are you seeing?

20 responses

  1. Your evening sounds lovely. I heard my first swifts of the year this morning followed shortly after by my first sighting of a swallow. Just the one, though.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Right, and you know the saying … so it’s not summer yet! I’m enjoying this very lush late spring, and not looking forward to temperatures of 25+ in America next week.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh, good luck with that. We were sitting on the terrace of the American Museum today saying what a perfect day it was.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I agree, the past couple of days have been just perfect. I’ve never been to the American Museum. Must go!

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Oh, you should. Only one of its kind in the UK, possibly Europe. Gorgeous gardens and a really interesting museum which includes some fabulous quilts.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Loving the lighter and lighter evenings. We saw a bat (dead, but… at least it means they’re here?), and I’ve been noticing how the tones of green in the trees are changing now from the lime brightness of early spring to the deeper shades of late spring/early summer. Wildflowers, too!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Splendid! We gave over a patch of our back garden to wildflowers and they’re nearly neck height on me now.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. This sounds an appetising collection: I wonder if I can find the Edwin Way Teale? Needless to say, my library can’t. As I type, I’m listening to the nearby thrush. It has sung almost constantly from before dawn to beyond dusk for several days now, and so loudly. I’ll be bereft when he finally stops.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I don’t think Teale is known at all in this country, alas. I’ve managed to find a few of his books secondhand.

      We have a one-legged blackbird who spends a lot of time in our front and back gardens — plenty of worms for him to find! (Unlike in most other front gardens on our street that have been turned over to gravel and concrete.)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh, good on you for being one-legged-blackbird friendly! I’d guessed Teale might be beyond my reach, but maybe just as well – tottering TBR piles and all that!


  4. I liked Swifts and Us and would agree The Screaming Sky was much better. Haven’t come across, Springtime in Britain by Edwin Way Teale so will keep an eye out for that.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Do you have Mark Cocker’s book as well? I requested a copy from the publisher and they told me to sign up for their blogger database but I’ve since heard nothing about requesting review copies.

      You might be able to find Teale’s books secondhand. I got one from Barter Books a couple of summers ago.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I don’t. I didn’t request a copy either, the last book he wrote, he arranged a copy for me. Did you get the Wainwright submissions again this year?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Yes, they sent me the list for input. Always nice to be consulted 🙂


  5. We heard a cuckoo last week in woods near us, but for us it’s a rare sound, even in the Bannau Brycheiniog national park – we heard them more frequently when we lived in Pembrokeshire. Also back in West Wales we had swallows regularly nesting in an old cattle byre and house martins under the eaves – like you we thought of them as ‘our’ summer visitors, and our hearts were heavy when they left us in early autumn. But we do have bats nesting nearby – under next door’s fascia – and early summer evenings they can be seen darting around chasing after any insects that foolishly come their way.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wondrous! I remember when we stayed on a small farm in Austria and there were swallows nesting in the eaves of the breakfast room. It was such a delight to see them every morning.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Birds feature quite a bit in my writing (thematically, not subject matter so much), which I think means I’m getting old, ha. The cuckoo features in my WIP but I don’t think I’ve ever heard a cuckoo here in MD. Swifts and larks–I’d love to see. Guess I should make it to England one of these days. But maybe not Slough, which I’d never heard of before the English (and superior) series, The Office.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. There are different species in the USA. “Uncommon and elusive,” apparently, so it’s no surprise you’ve never heard one. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Black-billed_Cuckoo/overview

      Slough is now jokey shorthand for a boring English town. I don’t know if there’s an American equivalent … maybe somewhere in the Midwest?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Poor Slough! In the US, Cleveland generally works as the butt of most jokes, unfortunately. But it’s actually very un-boring.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m sure that’s very unfair. I don’t know any of the cities in OH, but they’ll all have their museums and hip areas and other cultural things going on.

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: