A tree swallow perches on a branch in a colored pencil drawing.
A tree swallow flew to a sun-bleached branch and perched facing the wind and overlooking the pond where other swallows continued to fly. Tree swallows, barn swallows, and northern rough-winged swallows circled above the pond, some just slightly above the water’s surface. They scooped up insects during impressive aerial acrobatics involving nose dives and abrupt changes in direction. They made it look so easy. And, for them, it was.
The perched tree swallow did not sit still. He looked as if he were dancing. It was as if the flight that he had just taken a break from had yet to stop. He swayed with the wind, making some movements that were so subtle that only a concentrating eye at a close distance would have been able to notice them. Little head tilts, shoulder swerves, and leg bends all occurred in a horizontal stance without a single flap of the wings or footing adjustment. Some movements were large, others minute. He danced to the chipper music the swallows sang. The wind was his partner.
After a while of dancing in place, the tree swallow left his perch and was on the wing once again, joining fellow dancers in the air in a dance better known as flight.