On my way back from a walk out from the back of my house, I noticed something felty looking in the hedgerow:
It was Neeva, she hadn’t seen me, and was intently looking upwards, and was making strange squeaking noises:
I got a little closer, and whispered, so as not to make her jump,
“Hello, what are you doing?”
She stopped squeaking, and whispered, “Hello, I’m just having a chat with the swallows up on the wires there.” She nodded towards them:
“Don’t speak too loud, and they’ll stay there,” she said.
“What do they talk about?” I said quietly.
“When they get to this time of year, they gather together and chat about all the places they’ve flown to, and where they are going to be heading off to soon, it’s quite exciting. Usually they are too busy to talk as they are nesting and catching flies,” Neeva said.
“That does sound exciting,” I agreed.
“That one on the left was telling me all about flying around pyramids shaped tombs. It’s how I find out about the world.”
“It sounds like a great way to find out these things. I’ll let you get back to your conversation.” I walked away, and could hear the squeaking, squawking and tweeting resume behind me. How lovely it must be to talk to the birds.