Tree swallows wove in the air a twisty pattern -- skimming and skirting the dunes and wrack of Napatree Spit. At the dockage of Watch Hill harbor, the 200 gracile, slate-blue birds compacted abruptly into an unruly flock, circling and fluttering awkwardly between uncertain perches on swaying bayberry and dune rose. Then they rose into the overcast sky and flew across the Pawcatuck estuary westward toward Mystic.
May they eat a million mosquitos on their way to the hills of Honduras.
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