Alex James: swifts send my spirit soaring Oooh! Daaaddy," she said, not taking her eye off it for a split second. It's a picture I'll never forget. I managed to persuade her to put it down, "Ever so gently, darling," and rushed back inside to find some milk and breadcrumbs while it hopped about at her feet, apparently unconcerned. The swift is irresistible, and my favourite thing about the English summer, if I had to pick one thing. They are epic fliers - apparently they can even sleep on the wing. They tumble around the garden all song and swoop, often at close quarters but forever out of reach. They belong to another world - which is why my daughter was so ecstatic. The farm's empty barns were full of swifts and as we've reclaimed these buildings over the years, the birds have adapted to the changing environment pretty well. We seem to be able to work around each other. You can buy nesting boxes - some of them even have tiny Wi-Fi cameras in them, but the birds have strong ideas of their own about where to live. There's a pair holding up work on one barn that was earmarked for a makeover this summer. They somehow found their way inside and managed to build a nest despite my best efforts - I had fastidiously blocked up all the openings in early spring. They are worth waiting for, though, and we must be doing something right because at twilight yesterday, I glimpsed an owl on the roof of the thresher barn and I haven't seen one on the farm for years. As soon as I started creeping towards it, it stretched its wings and dived to swoop away over the hedge and into the night. But that close encounter of the bird kind put a spring in my step for the whole of the rest of the week.