September’s Inn – dunkin swallows

Posted on September 4, 2014

September is a month that promises so much, after a brief but hectic summer ‘season’ the schools have reclaimed their froth (and legropes), leaving us and the beaches relatively empty and it gives a chance for ‘us’ lucky locals to enjoy the late summer sunshine (and surf) in peace and quiet – without the heartache of congested roads, mayhem and shopping queues . A bit like late spring but with warmer water and a healthier attitude. Although its not all as idyllic as it seems; the sunsets get earlier and earlier and the swells are too infrequent and short lived. Lets face it, no matter how many blackberry’s or mushrooms you pick, you cannot escape that nostalgic feeling of another summer gone. It’s September and summer is over, bye.,

I consider myself lucky, generally (even though I’ve never won the lottery)(or would have an idea how to cope with a lotto win..)(OK I have thought about it, on various ‘skint*’ moments) (*monthly). Anyway, today was a lovely 18°C sunny, no wind, September school day and I found myself having a lunch break at this wonderful location. Longlands. Devon. The swallows were flocking over the old farmhouse, as they must have done for centuries previously, in readiness to escape the massive wave of melancholy that will pursue them to North Africa and an endless summer of bluebottle sandwiches.

Being simple, I’ve always been awestruck by the way swallows rehydrate; it’s amazing. They drink on the wing by skimming the water like a pebble, beak open to shovel in the drink….. and sometimes they have a ‘red barn scotch egg’ too – in the form of a random dragon fly snack bite, hahahaha.

Right, Ive sat and watched the Longlands swallows all summer and even tried to photograph them in a previous blog (Swallows Projeck https://esterspears.com/2014/07/16/swallows-projeck/). Today, they were flocking and mustering to leave in the next few weeks. They were drinking on the wing in the lake as they have done all summer long, and their previous generations have done through to a time before we even foraged the first sloe for a Neanderthal gin. This is my latest attempt shoot them (and maybe the last of the summer?), in a never ending (lunchtime) projeck to get the prefect shot of a dunkin swallow