Silly little birds||Portland
The swifts are like an avian hurricane. Every year during the month of September, they swirl about in the Portland skies. Each evening, they begin to cluster slowly in the space above and they ebb and flow as the sun sinks low, until the entire flock is together, flying madly like a torrent of ashes in the atmosphere. Then, all at once, they gang-dive into the big black Chapman chimney and leave behind them a blank and quiet sky. It is a mystery as to what these silly little birds do once they are actually inside the chimney, but I am guessing that they play Bridge or watch old episodes of Arrested Development or talk shit about the Hawks that want Swift-pie for dessert. Or maybe they just go to sleep in one huge feathery-pile and have restless dreams about swarms of people with cameras and bird-hats watching them from below.