The Ultimate Imperative

[Shortsighted]

 I don’t pay a great deal of attention to swallows and they reciprocate the neglect.  Sure, I’ll regard their species just to hone my skills, but I don’t much fancy them as a subject to photograph because they are mostly zooming through the air and being uncooperative. Then there is the unnerving way that a perched swallow just stares directly at you with that incomprehensible expression, as if it knows something you don’t know, like it sees a sword of Damocles over my head.  There never is, because I’ve looked.
 
 
 Sometimes swallows do indeed rest without that accompanying stare that so freaks me out, like looking into the business-end of a loaded nail gun when your finger is resting on the trigger and you’re thinking, are you feeling lucky, punk?   Let’s face it, we all need to rest, even the rest of us. Some have taken resting and made it into an art form but will eventually grow out of it in their twenties.  When swallows are perched then I’ll consider taking a photo.  At this time of year swallows might be perched, yet not be genuinely resting.  I recently encountered that very situation while witnessing swallows having sex. One thing is certain, they weren’t faking it.  It wasn’t swallow porn either because there was no director.  No, I’m not a porn photographer.  Not that I would admit it if I was.  It’s swallows executing the ultimate imperative.  I’m thinking what music would work best for the event.  OK, not my business.