They are long gone now but are a wonderful reminder of the summer now cut short. I was thrilled when, after an absence of some years, I caught sight of them wheeling round our gable to eventually start dropping muddy debris on to the top deck – they were nesting again! We watched progress closely and in time we noted flights to and fro, first swooping up with beakfuls of insects, just in time to avoid hitting our sliding doors, and then, a second later, down again to drop a fecal sac (poo) –  mostly in the river! They keep a tidy nest. The feeding flights became more and more frantic from early morning once the sun had warmed the air, until late in the evening. Then we were alerted to even more frantic activity from a whole group of adults – communal encouragement – as one by one, fluffy fledglings dropped off the gable beam to crash land on the balcony. There they sat in a row of four, hunched and apparently shivering in the wind, but transformed in an instant to wide-gaped beggers as each parent swooped down with more beakfuls. I wondered how each parent knew who needed feeding next! Crazy test flights followed, with many crash landings, but all soon mastered the basics and were soon zipping about as a family. This is when they are most vulnerable of course, and my heart jumped when a Sparrowhawk sped by, amid much clamour from chasing Swallows, with something in its talons. Not one of mine I hoped. It’s amazing how attached you get to your own fledglings. They all came back to roost together each evening for another period, and then before I knew it, a flock of many families wheeled around frantically feeding, and then they were all gone. With a lump in my throat I wished them bon voyage – and see you next year. We shall see. Ian