There is one bird that has occupied my thoughts this last month. I have puzzled over how to describe it and express it in words that would somehow do it justice and distill, dare I say even bottle, in words, a little of its magic. The bird itself offers no fine plumage detail that would warrant colourful prose or even a voice that we might call a ‘song’. It is essentially dark brown all over and its voice is best described as a scream; and yet it is master of the skies, unrivalled in aerial dexterity, a resident of the heavens and but a brief visitor to earth. I am of course talking about swifts.