The Swallows Holiday

"Hey Bob? How's the brood?"
"Fine, thanks for asking, Larry. Hey, it's been awhile. Haven't seen you since-"
"About April."
"Yeah, around April... Well Margaret wanted to extend the nest, and it was a close call to get that done before she layed, and (you know how it is once they hatch) it feels like I did nothing but feed them until they flew off."
"I heard Maggie's still with you guys."
"Yeah. She swears she'll die either of loneliness or eagle food."
"Does she still dye her feathers?"
"I don't know who taught her to be so morbid. Eagle food, indeed."
"It does happen."
"But you don't think about it."
"Is she excited about the migration?"
"She's been threatening to stay and freeze to death."
"I imagine she'd starve before she- *cough* uhm, what do you think of Shawn leading this year?"
"It's always dicey when a youth leads his first migration. They never stop at the old fields, they're way too jittery about predators: sounding the retreat every time a housedog barks. I could lead the flock better then any fledgling on his first flight."
"I bet you could, Bob. Maybe you would have, if you'd have made it to the flock meeting last week."
"I've never liked flock meetings. All the gray fletched getting intoxicated on fermented lightning bugs. Once the crickets are gone, it's hard to stay through all the politiking."
"But it's time for a vacation, eh? I can't wait to get to Costa Rica. Sarah and I have been looking forward to it for about a month, now."
"I'm worried about Maggie even making it there. She spent so much time int he nest, I don't think she has the endurance."
"Looks like she's getting familiar with Shawn over there. I doubt his pace will be too hard on her."