Courtesy of Birds of Allegiance
Vaux’s swifts, pronounced like “vauks,” are small birds, no bigger than five inches in length that are often referred to as “cigars with wings.” During their migratory path through the Pacific Northwest, these swifts have turned to large brick chimneys for roosting.
One of the most beloved September traditions in Portland has been witnessing the annual roosting of Vaux’s swifts in the massive World War II-era chimney at Chapman Elementary School. The school shares two city blocks with the popular Wallace Park, making its iconic chimney a local landmark.
For generations of Portlanders, the sight of thousands of swifts spiraling above Wallace Park before disappearing into the chimney has become as much a part of September as pumpkin picking on Sauvie Island and the return of the rain. But that tradition is changing.
Unfortunately, the flock that has roosted at Chapman for over 40 years has been fracturing and turning to chimneys farther east since 2024. Portland locals and conservationists studying the species have become increasingly worried about this sudden change and what it might mean for the species and the community built around them.
As a native of the Portland Metropolitan area, I have held a lifelong association between the massive Chapman Elementary chimney and the thousands of swooping birds on autumn nights. I attended grade school less than five miles from Wallace Park, where I spent my 12th and 15th birthday parties and gathered with classmates for the first time as COVID-19 lockdowns were being lifted.
On at least one evening every September, I would head to Chapman after dinner with my friend, Annika Sirtori, and we would sit with our brothers on a hill to watch the thousands of swifts race across the sky and dive into the chimney that towered over all of Wallace Park.
Vaux’s swifts originally roosted in hollow trees, but as humans encroached on and deforested their habitats, the birds increasingly turned to structures that could meet their needs.
Particularly, the swift prefers to make its home in multi-layered brick chimneys constructed before 1940, as these structures can provide both protection from cold and mortar joints that the birds can hang onto as they sleep. Since at least the 1980s, tens of thousands of swifts have made their home each fall in the chimney of Chapman Elementary.
However, modern architecture has made these structures increasingly rare. Chimneys have been removed from cities or made inaccessible to swifts. Add to this the impacts of climate change, which have been leading swifts to arrive earlier than normal and to roost farther north, and there is a real concern for the longevity of this species and the tradition it has inspired.
In an effort to understand a bit more about what this tradition means to Portland locals, I gave Sirtori a call. Her house in Portland is located only a few blocks up the street from Wallace Park, a space she has been visiting for her entire life. I first asked Sirtori about what this tradition meant to those who made up the community surrounding Chapman.
“It was this wonderful place for everyone to come together and appreciate nature and be together in the outdoors, and also celebrate the circle of life and migration,” Sirtori responded.
She emphasized the importance of the tradition as a community gathering space, where kids could play soccer or spike ball while their parents picnicked and teenagers on dates sat on the hill.
During our call, Sirtori explained, “We would see all of our neighbors and friends there. Sometimes soccer practice would end maybe an hour or two before the swifts, and we would continue playing soccer or sliding down the hill until the swifts came, and then the whole soccer team would stay for the swifts. I think it was the heart of the community.”
When asked how she felt about the end of this tradition and what it meant to Portlanders, Sirtori elaborated.
“If it was just me watching those birds, it was an amazing natural phenomenon that I got to witness. But it’s made so much more special by the fact that there’s hundreds and hundreds of people all witnessing it together and sharing this sense of awe with each other.”
Despite the worry that exists about the disappearance of this tradition, I think hope remains. As I looked upwards while crossing the LC campus on a September night, at the cornflower-blue sky streaked with pink clouds, dozens of cigar-shaped birds flew north over my head just as they have every fall.
Whether or not the swifts return to Chapman remains to be seen. But as long as they continue to pass through Portland, there is still an opportunity to protect both the birds and the places that have allowed people to experience them together for generations.
For decades, thousands of Portlanders gathered at Wallace Park to watch a natural phenomenon they could count on each year. The birds came, the birds left, and for a few weeks each fall, neighbors and strangers alike sat in awe beneath the chimney. If the swifts disappear from Chapman, Portland loses more than just another flock of birds coming through the city. It will lose one of the places where a city came together to celebrate the natural landscape and community spirit that make Portland what it is.
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