Most of the time, tree swallows move so astoundingly fast it’s hard to see anything but a blur. They’re in such constant motion they rarely stop long enough to offer more than a glimpse of their deep blue-and-white plumage that looks like a tiny tuxedo.
A Tree Swallow comes in for a landing. Photos by Anders Gyllenhaal
So I was surprised one windy afternoon last month on the plains of eastern Wyoming when I came across a full dozen Tree Swallows clinging to a barbed-wire fence. The wind was so strong they were momentarily grounded. When they did try to fly, the wind held them in place for a time as they took off and landed.
It was as if these little aerial acrobats were frozen in the air.
As long as the wind kept up, I had a chance to catch these birds in the midst of takeoffs, landings, feedings, squabbles, gobbles, squawks and occasionally quiet moments of stillness.
Nobody knows these hyperactive birds better than David Winkler, a long-time professor at Cornell University who researched swallows throughout his career before retiring two years ago. He’s still working with his swallows, to his great delight.
“They’re masters of the air,’’ he said. “I never get tired of looking at them.’’
Winkler has studied the swallows’ migration, feeding and mating habits, their flight dynamics and nesting routines. He started toward the beginning of his career as a professor of ornithology, and he found no end to the questions about swallows he hoped to answer.
The wind blows a swallow slightly off course.
What he finds most fascinating is their tireless drive, the same thing that makes them so fascinating to watch in flight. “They don’t let anything get in their way,’’ said Winkler.
Robert Rice, a veteran bird scientist who spent his career with the Smithsonian’s Migratory Bird Center, explained what happens: “They can eat so much fruit, it ferments in their gut and they go wobbly for a while,” Rice said.
It’s a magnificent sight, one I assumed I’d miss this year with our limited mobility. But the other day, wandering through the trees not 50 feet from our home, I noticed what looked like a new arrival. It was the first of a flock of Cedar Waxwings that gradually became an avalanche, all collecting insects as if their lives depended on it.
Pileateds are the largest woodpeckers in North America, more than a foot tall with a wingspan of two feet. They are powerful birds with large claws and sharp beaks. All of those tools came into play as these two battled for the advantage.
We came across this spectacle on the edge of Galveston Island State Park in coastal Texas one recent rainy afternoon. The scene was transfixing: the egret leaps from the water one moment, tilts its heads far over to the side in the next and then appears to tiptoe.
