Silent Summer

The heat wave has since broken, to be replaced by an ambiance reminiscent of autumn, complete with the scent of a hearth fire wafting through the air.  Occasionally, the sun peeps through the thick, graying clouds, while a fresh breeze ushers them along, initiating a rustling of leaves. 

Yet, the birds do not stir as they did a few weeks ago, during early summer.  It seems still too soon for migration to begin, but they must have gone somewhere.  The Yellowhammers’ requests for “one piece of bread with no cheese” have become fewer, perhaps tiring of the same bland meal.  The spirited call and answer of the Great Tits have become more infrequent.  Just yesterday, I spotted the first individual that I’ve seen in weeks.  I admit that I haven’t been out and about much recently, but the Yellowhammers and the Great Tits, in particular, could once be heard through the open bedroom window or from the doorstep. 

The Barn Swallows, on the other hand, have doubled their numbers, which, they may use to intimidate the other birds away from their turf, as they congregate upon the telephone lines, just next to the hostel’s driveway.  A few days ago, they were holding parties as wild as those had by the college students, who were counting singing male Aquatic Warblers, with droves of them twirling and swooping through the air, chattering endlessly.  Yet, even yesterday, they seem to have hunkered down, being partied out.