This time last week these two little birds were peeping out of their nest, anxiously waiting for food and the power to fly.

Three days later that power had come. We saw the evidence high on window ledge, where one of the fledglings, white chest heaving, scrabbled for a footing a few metres below the nest. We counted the pause in seconds, and then off the little bird span, wings stiffening in flight.

That evening it seemed as if the birds had gone. The following day there was still no sign of them, or if there was we never saw it. We fretted of course.

“Surely too soon.”

“That bird needed more time.”

An anxious blog was prepared, but on the point of pinging it out into the world, the chirruping above the window suddenly started up again, together with the to and fro of food delivery as the birds prepared for the night.

The next day the nest was still full, unbothered by the passing of the autumn equinox.

Then came this morning, and with it the sight of house martins gathered, sharp as arrowheads, below the storm clouds in the distance. It looked as though there were a dozen or so birds, many more than in the nest we’d seen. Like an air squadron in waiting they soared the grey tumbling sky … and then they were gone.

Here’s hoping that next year, at least some of them will make it all the way back again.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023