A date of local note in Eugene, a sign of the seasons and fall’s signifier: the late-August diving funnel of Vaux’s swifts roosts in the chimney at 17th and Agate (they also have reservations in Portland, it seems). They come from Seattle (I think?) and winter in California. Thousands, every night, for two weeks! They flock for a while in the sky, massing and churning to a presumed conductor, before smearing themselves inside the brick tower. I hail their low-maintenance bedding habits. I get frightfully grumpy with out a certain standard of creature comforts, including the right to cool feet, and a whirring fan. I wrote a short verse, optimistically speculating that the swifts, as birds, have at least the audio requisite covered, sine qua non. Here it is: resting swifts after flight / chirping noises of white. ALM.
