Towards the end of March and through April, I get serious neck-ache checking the skies looking for my first swallow or martin of the year, and now in September through to October, I find myself doing it again, only this time I’m checking the skies to see as many swallows and martins as I can before their departure to South Africa and wishing I could go with them.

Their journey will take about six weeks to complete, covering a distance of 6,000 miles. From England they travel to France then into Spain, through to Morocco, before crossing the Sahara, the Congo rainforest and finally into South Africa.

The journey isn’t rushed, after all it isn’t a race, and there’s no queuing at airports, no delays due to flight cancellations, no baggage checks, no one tells a swallow: ”I’m sorry but you can’t go because you’re carrying too much weight.” They don’t even have to pack, just take off and away they go.

However, it isn’t all plain sailing, or should that be plain flying? Variable weather can hamper the flight, some may tire out and they also run the risk of being shot just for so called ‘sport’, as some countries have the custom. So it can be a perilous journey at times.

So as the skies slowly empty of our swallows and martins, I wish them well and look forward to next year when once again I shall be gazing upwards, searching for the swallows and martins.

L B Loxley