A neighbourhood swift survey

Through Facebook, I found out about a local network that's monitoring swift nesting sites in our area, and trying to protect these - for example, by negotiating with landlords and builders so that sites are not compromised when renovations are done. The group also provides advice to residents who are willing to install nest boxes. It feels like a small but encouraging effort to protect urban wildlife and ecological diversity.
Anyway - I joined a small group in the evening, to help with recording nest numbers, and bird numbers, on a large nineteenth century building near our house, a former school that's now used as a hostel (or possibly flats, we couldn't tell).
It turned out to be a wonderful, wonderful evening. The weather was warm but not oppressively hot, with a light breeze. Five of us spread out around the building, each taking an aspect to watch quietly between 9 and 10 pm. When we began, crowds of swifts were circling high above, in the clear blue sky.  Small 'screaming parties' periodically made dashes over the roof, before heading upwards again. By the time we were winding up, they had come down low and were skimming right over our heads, as they flitted in and out of nests and  around the eaves and gutters.  Some went into their nests and stayed inside; others were 'prospecting', swooping up to check out a possible site for next year and then flying off again.
For those last few minutes, just before dark, it almost felt like being absorbed into the birds' movements - they came so close. We could feel the rush of wind as they skimmed overhead, and hear the swish of their wings.  We didn't need to talk; there was a lovely companionship in just watching and listening.
There was something very healing about that immersion in moments of wildness, in the dusty city street.