FAMILY FUN
Swift
NIGHT OUT Once you have experienced the magic of the Vaux’s swifts, it is easy to see why the city of Monroe proclaimed the graceful avian as its official city bird. In a phenomenon that is truly unique to Monroe, thousands of Vaux’s swifts travel through the city every year during their spring and fall migrations, which take them from Canada to Mexico to Venezuela and back again. Vaux’s— rhymes with foxes—swifts are the smallest of the swifts, a species of migratory bird that travels in large clusters. The gentle 4-to 5-inch winged creatures resemble swallows, but are most closely related to hummingbirds. Swifts have an uncommon wing formation, and unlike most birds, their foot structure prevents them from perching on things likes wires or tree branches. This means that swifts require special accommodations for any desired periods of repose, preferring to cling to the sides of roughly-barked trees or old brick chimneys. Fortunately, the historic chimney at Monroe’s Wagner Center provides the swifts with the perfect nighttime roosting site. The birds are celebrated every fall during a community
BY CHRIS HENDRICKSON Choose Monroe
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event called Swift Night Out, which welcomes Monroe residents and guests from all over Snohomish and King counties and beyond. As Swift Night Out attendees soon discover, there is nothing quite like watching the swifts perform their evening waltz above the Wagner chimney. As the afternoon skies deepen with dusk’s impending descent, the birds begin to circle the chimney in a graceful swell of flight. They whisper as they soar, in an ever-so-dainty twittering that would charm even the most cantankerous old soul. They swirl repeatedly, patiently mesmerizing their observers with their unforgettable, melodic dance. As dusk falls, the birds inexplicably begin to heed the silent call that compels them to interrupt their enchanting journey across the skies. Bird by bird, they drop into the chimney—tail first—where they huddle together overnight, safe, warm and dry. With each balletic swirl, fewer and fewer birds linger in the evening sky, as if flirting playfully with the idea that they’ll soon be tucked away for the night. The final swift almost always seems to delay its own retreat with an impromptu trip or two around the chimney, reminiscent of a wistful child who doesn’t want the summer day to end.
