Swift

When I was growing up, spotting the first swift was a sure sign summer was knocking at the door.

My Mum and I would sit in our garden and gaze skyward as the late June evenings drifted into night. We’d watch clutches of swifts soar and dive in the gloaming light, pulling spectacular moves that would make even the most accomplished gymnast gasp in delight. As the light slowly faded, the swooping silhouettes of these magnificent birds – little darting shards of life – would be the last to fade as darkness fell and rolled up the sky like a map.

Were I in need of a Patronus (and who isn’t every now and then), this would be the memory and animal I would summon. I’ve tried to capture the moment the Patronus explodes from a wand, and the visceral speed of the swift. The head, tail and wings are all poseable. I have included one red stud – tucked away in the breast – to celebrate the beating heart of an animal that can fly level at over 100km/h and spend 10 months living solely on the wing.