Spring into action

The Music Maker

Watching swallows go about their springtime business is one of life's little luxuries; they bring a sense of optimism and renewal to the world, says columnist Peter Edgerton

Peter Edgerton

"One swallow doesn't make a summer" is not, as some might have you believe, a phrase which references the first gulp of ice-cold beer on a Malaga bar terrace in early July, but rather has its origins in Aristotle's work Nicomachean Ethics (c.350 BC) as we will no doubt see for ourselves when we get round to reading it (any minute now).

It's a phrase which is also linked to Aesop's fable The Young Man and the Swallow, which recounts the tale of a lad who sees a single bird, thus believes spring to have arrived, sells his coat and is, consequently, left freezing and penniless when the cold inevitably returns. Young people, eh?

Meanwhile, in Spain, there exists the rather wonderful equivalent refrain warning against embracing the promise of summer too early: "Hasta el cuarenta de mayo, no te quites el sayo" ("Until the fortieth of May, don't take off your coat/tunic/ smock.) There are myriad excellent Spanish expressions of this type but that one's right up there with the best of them.

Anyway, back to the swallows. In recent weeks, I've found myself freeing three or four of the noble little fellows from my house, having gone out on some nondescript errand or other and inadvertently left an upstairs window ajar. It's the time of year when they seek out suitable nesting spots to raise a family and, although I'm a huge fan, letting out a corner of a very untidy wardrobe to a few of them rent-free would be a step too far.

You can't help but like swallows, can you? They're hardworking, agile, resilient and rather fetching to look at - a bit like Taylor Swift but with better songs. You also can't help feeling a touch sorry for them. Imagine migrating six thousand miles from Africa, almost permanently on the wing, swooping and darting for insects plus a spot of drinking water from rivers and lakes, covering up to two hundred miles a day at a speed of around thirty miles an hour, arriving at your destination and, finally, building your home by the sweat of your beak from mud, grass and your own saliva, only for some feckless sparrow to occupy the premises when you are out looking for food. And sometimes when you're not out. It happens all too frequently.

Watching swallows go about their springtime business is one of life's little luxuries; they bring a sense of optimism and renewal to the world and it's only natural to side with them in their endeavours, all the while willing them to avoid the unwanted attention of the annoyingly invasive sparrows. Just hoping for a little justice in other words.

Or maybe that's for the birds.