The autumn morning peace exploded into a twittering of birds. Scrambling from my desk, I rushed outside. House martins! Thirty or 40, 50 or 60, more. Repeatedly circling our house, they swooped up to the mud cup nest under the gable end to noisily greet the fledglings. I witness this event every autumn but never tire of it. As September lengthens, the whole village community of adult house martins come together to encourage any recalcitrant youngsters from the nest in time for the great trek back to Africa.