The world of spectacular swifts

swiftA soft flapping noise emanated from the darkness of the barn hayloft, startling me. It was a mid-July in 1987, and I was in my parents’ barn in East Dalhousie, Kings County.
My eyes struggled to make out shapes in the dark recesses of the loft. There, high in the peak above me, a tiny, black animal clung to the vertical barn wall, beating its wings periodically against the boards. A bat? No, a bird. Perhaps a swallow? Read more in Donna Crossland’s article of July 19, 2015.

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