Swifts' decline: how can Britons help these remarkable birds?

The swift (Apus apus) is an acrobatic aerial bird, a remarkable sprinter and endurance flyer that rarely touches the ground. When these sickle-winged birds do come down – after several years in perpetual flight, even sleeping midair – it is to nest in the eaves of roofs across Europe after spending winters in sub-Saharan Africa, migrating 7,000 miles (11,000km) every year. They are celebrated by nature-lovers, artists and poets as they race through city skies on long summer evenings, filling the air with their screaming calls.
The fastest bird in level flight (top speed: 69mph/111kph), they feed on airborne insects. Swifts are in trouble because of steep declines in insects, but also because they are losing traditional nesting sites. Swifts once nested in caves and hollow trees but moved into buildings hundreds of years ago. Modern insulation, particularly in roofs, removes the crevices and cavities where they have nested for centuries.
Grim. Swift populations slumped by 66% between 1995 and 2022 in Britain and have continued a rapid downward trend. Since the last count of 59,000 breeding pairs, the population this summer is set to be just 40,000 pairs. In five years' time, there could be fewer than 25,000, unless action is taken.
Declines are not so pronounced across continental Europe despite similar insect declines. Countries such as Germany and France appear to have retained more nesting sites in old buildings than in Britain, where few buildings constructed after 1944 can accommodate swifts.
A swift brick is a hollow brick which slots into the brickwork of new or old homes, providing a cavity where swifts can nest. The bricks have also been found to help other cavity-nesting birds, including the rapidly declining red-listed house martin, house sparrow and starling. Other species including blue tits, great tits, nuthatches and wrens will also nest in the bricks.
Swift bricks are made by brick manufacturers large and small, and typically cost about £35. There is a British Standard for them and some developers are already fitting them to new homes.
Three years ago, the writer and bird lover Hannah Bourne-Taylor launched a campaign to oblige every new home to be fitted with a swift brick. When in opposition, the UK Labour party supported the 'swift brick amendment', first tabled by the Conservative peer Zac Goldsmith, to do this in England. Now in government, Labour is resisting attempts by its own backbench MP Barry Gardiner to insert a swift brick amendment into the controversial planning and infrastructure bill.
Labour is reluctant to impose additional regulations on housebuilders as it attempts to address the UK's housing affordability crisis with a big push for new homes. Nearly 30 housebuilders have voluntarily agreed to install one brick for every new home built. Labour's latest move is to suggest adding swift bricks to national planning policy guidance so that all England's local planning authorities insist on them for new homes. But Bourne-Taylor says this won't guarantee more swift bricks, because many planning authorities lack the resources to ensure planning conditions are met. A recent study found developers, who make multi-billions in profits, were not providing 75% of the nesting boxes stipulated in planning permissions.
'By refusing to mandate swift bricks, the government is making it clear to their voters that they do not care about nature because this would be the easiest nature recovery action, ever,' said Bourne-Taylor. 'Loads of people have told me that they will never vote Labour again because of how the government have acted on swift bricks.'
Wooden swift boxes are widely available and are suitable for swifts, provided they can be installed at least 4.5m above ground and not on a south-facing aspect, because this is too hot for the nesting birds. Retrofitting an integral brick is more expensive but slightly better because it provides a cooler space and will last longer than a wooden box.
Even if a swift box is ignored by swifts, it will be a boon to other birds. And there are many other ways to help swifts. The Swift Local Network unites swift lovers across Britain. Local groups rescue fallen birds and protect existing nesting sites: talking to neighbours who have swifts in their roofs raises awareness if roofs are renovated.
The government's commitment to insulate Britain will be welcomed by all environmentally minded voters, but this makes it more crucial than ever that swift bricks are integrated into all new homes. Campaigners are emailing the housing secretary, Angela Rayner, to let her know.
Site-faithful swifts sometimes take a while to discover new nesting opportunities. If house sparrows first take up residence, this is good news because swifts often seek out nesting spaces where they see sparrows – they are a signal for swifts that there are good homes here!
Some people play swift calls from a window close to a new nestbox to attract curious swifts when they first arrive back in Britain in May. This can help, but usually only in areas that already have swift populations.

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

Telegraph

8 hours ago

• Telegraph

Pea, pistachio and matcha cake

This cake is a real green extravaganza. I love matcha and I think the flavour goes well here – with the peas and pistachios, it's a green triple threat. That being said, matcha is a very specific flavour. If you haven't tried it before, I recommend grabbing an iced matcha or similar drink at a coffee shop before trying this recipe, especially as it's a more expensive ingredient. If you don't like matcha or don't want to use it, just leave it out and glaze the cake with a simple icing, then scatter over some pistachios. I use lime juice in the glaze to add a bit of zing, but you can use milk if you're not a lime fiend. Cooling time required Overview Prep time 20 mins Cook time 1 hr Serves 10 to 12 Ingredients 115ml sunflower or vegetable oil, plus extra for greasing the tin 125g frozen peas 200g natural yoghurt 75g pistachios, plus extra for decorating, if you like 1 tsp vanilla extract 3 eggs 175g caster sugar 200g self-raising flour ½ tsp baking powder 1 tbsp matcha powder Zest of 1 lime For the glaze 125g icing sugar ½ tsp matcha powder 1½ tbsp lime juice (or you can use milk), or as needed Method Step Preheat the oven to 180C/160C fan/gas mark 4. Step Oil a 1.5-litre loaf tin and line with parchment paper. Step Place 125g frozen peas in a heatproof bowl and cover with freshly boiled water to defrost. Leave for a few minutes, then drain. Step Tip the peas into a food processor, add 100g natural yogurt and blitz until smooth. Step Throw in 75g pistachios and blitz until coarsely chopped. Set aside. Step In a mixing bowl, combine 115ml sunflower or vegetable oil, 1 tsp vanilla extract and 3 eggs, then stir in the remaining 100g yoghurt, 175g caster sugar, and the pea and pistachio mixture.

The Sun

12 hours ago

• The Sun

Thousands of plush toys sold in UK are urgently recalled & ‘rejected at border' over ‘serious' health risk

THOUSANDS of plush toys across the UK have been urgently recalled after they were flagged over a serious health risk. Locisne has pulled its Hamster Plush Toy from store shelves - with conerns it could present a serious risk to life. The item has been removed from online marketplaces including from Amazon. "This product presents a serious risk of choking as the eyes of the hamster can detach and fit wholly in a small parts cylinder," a government report said. "If a child under 3 were to use and mouth the toy, the small parts may become detached and cause the child to choke. "The product does not meet the requirements of the Toys [Safety] Regulations 2011." Other recent product recalls While the laws around toys are stringent, products still make it to market that present a danger to children. The Nail Art Studio kit, by the brand Girls Creator, is a nail art set that includes nail varnish, a battery-operated nail dryer and a range of nail accessories. However, a warning was issued after a product safety report found a risk of suffocation for children. Another recent example was the Joycat Baby Float, sold on Amazon. The blue and yellow sea-themed swim seat, intended for babies and toddlers, was blocked from entering the country at the border. The float was branded a safety risk after authorities found that its attachable canopy could lift the float from the water in windy conditions, putting children in danger. Ford Recalls Over 1 Million Vehicles: Rearview Camera Glitch Explained The report also raised concerns that the float's colours do not provide enough contrast with the water, making it harder to spot in an emergency. What are my product recall rights? Product recalls are an important means of protecting consumers from dangerous goods. As a general rule, if a recall involves a branded product, the manufacturer would usually have lead responsibility for the recall action. But it's often left up to supermarkets to notify customers when products could put them at risk. If you are concerned about the safety of a product you own, always check the manufacturer's website to see if a safety notice has been issued. When it comes to appliances, rather than just food items, the onus is usually on you - the customer - to register the appliance with the manufacturer as if you don't there is no way of contacting you to tell you about a fault. If you become aware that an item you own has been recalled or has any safety noticed issued against it, make sure you follow the instructions given to you by the manufacturer. They should usually provide you with more information and a contact number on its safety notice. In some cases, the manufacturer might ask you to return the item for a full refund or arrange for the faulty product to be collected.

Telegraph

13 hours ago

• Telegraph

Eating dinner at 10pm is nothing short of pyschopathic

Almost everything about Covid was bad, obviously. The virus itself, the pain it inflicted across the world, the restrictions on individual liberty, and the banging of pots with wooden spoons on our doorsteps every Thursday evening (astonishing to think this is the country that came up with Magna Carta, and yet over 800 years later we'd regressed to the point where we decided to show our appreciation by behaving like deranged toddlers with a set of kitchen equipment). On the other hand, it shifted our body clocks forward a bit, did it not? It did for me, anyway. Pre-Covid, an 8pm table booking was no problem. Splendid, in fact. Dinner out with friends, nothing could be lovelier. Post-Covid, it seemed mad. Practically wanton. Be out at that time, away from my home? Only sitting down for dinner at 8pm? What is this, Spain? Now, if I'm meeting pals for supper, I generally try to get away with a 7.30 booking, although ideally 7pm. That allows plenty of time for chit-chat but means we can still be in bed by 10. If friends are coming over for dinner, I often say to them airily 'any time from 6.30' in the hope this means I might be tucked up with my book even earlier. At any sign of lingering over the coffee and bag of Minstrels, I start loading the dishwasher. It's enormously relaxed, an evening with me. Last November, while having dinner with friends in New York – 'the city that never sleeps' – I practically fell asleep at the table because our reservation was for 9pm (although I suspect jet lag and the three margaritas before dinner didn't help matters much). But a friend across the pond says there's been a more general shift to earlier eating even there. And yet there remain among us a good number of psychopaths who want to eat at 10.30pm, or even later. I'm not referring to our southern European friends; various London restaurants have recently announced that they're opening reservation slots for later tables. Mountain, a Soho restaurant where I once tried tripe (not for me), is now offering punters the chance of a slot at 10.30pm. Tomos Parry, the co-founder and chef of Brat, a very trendy Shoreditch restaurant, says he's noticed late-night diners creeping back. If you fancy a plate of extremely spicy noodles, you can book a table at Speedboat Bar, an excellent Thai restaurant also in Soho, until 12.30am on Friday and Saturday nights. This has been hailed as a 'late-night dining revolution', which I don't remember Marx banging on about much. Restaurateurs are, naturally, delighted. Times are hard, getting punters in to eat is challenging, especially when everyone's on the fat jabs, so if they can keep throwing out plates until the wee hours for those who do want to eat, so much the better. Jeremy King, restaurant impresario, has recently unveiled a new late-night menu at his new-ish joints, The Park and Arlington. Book a table after 9.45pm and you get 25 per cent off. Notably, these are all fairly central London restaurants, and I wonder how many of their late-night clientele live reasonably close. Or at least only one zone away. Well-heeled sorts who don't baulk at the price of fillet steak and can totter home or hail a black cab for a fare under a tenner. Because if you book a table at 10.30pm, you're not going to be heading home much before midnight. The trains have stopped running back to my parts by then. There's the odd night bus if I don't mind two hours crawling southwards, or it'll be a £50 Uber. Bed by 1am, maybe, which isn't hugely practical if you have to work for a living, or have small children, or a small and unruly terrier who demands his first outing to the park at 6am. That's to say nothing of the potential digestion issues. I don't wish to be indelicate, but can one get a good night's kip if you hit the pillow with a stomach full of tripe after midnight? As Pepys himself once surmised: 'I did eat very late at night, which I perceive makes me feel heavy and sleepy.' Quite. Experts quoted in health articles constantly extol the health benefits of intermittent fasting, or restricting one's eating to an eight- or 10-hour window. But good luck with that if you're swallowing your last mouthful of crispy egg noodles after Cinderella's curfew. No more for you until at least lunchtime the following day. Many years ago, one late night as a teenager, I sat across a table from a boy I had a crush on in a restaurant called Vingt-Quatre on the Fulham Road. It had opened in 1995, London's first 24-hour restaurant, and the novelty was thrilling. The novelty of sitting near a boy, I mean, although the restaurant was pretty thrilling too. We shared a burger and the bill came with a small pot of Smarties, which seemed the height of ironic decadence. He paid and afterwards walked me back through the dark streets of Chelsea to put me on the N137 home to Stockwell, so it was a relatively chaste evening. Not the sort of thing that gets poets excited. But it felt practically Byronic to me – the late night, the Smarties, the slow meander to the Sloane Street bus stop. I swooned about it for months once safely back at boarding school. I understand it, in other words. I understand that late-night dining can be exciting, and romantic, possibly even a little dangerous if your alarm is going off soon. But my appetite for danger must have waned in the intervening 23 years because dicey behaviour these days means going to sleep after 11pm. Perhaps this is more to do with age than Covid. Or both. Still, if restaurants are increasingly catering for daredevils who wish to risk indigestion and trapped wind, those of us who prefer 7pm tables may stand more of a chance. Or maybe even 6.30pm. Could you make 6.30?