95 



appearing some time before them, but they atone for tardiness by remark- 

 able regularity. The records of a number of years show that they may be 

 looked for in Ottawa almost with certainty on one of the first six days 

 of May ; and when they come they come altogether. To-day, perhaps' 

 not a swift is to be seen, or at most but a couple of pioneers; to-morrow 

 the whole colony is with us. They take up their abode at first in what may 

 be called the swifts' immigrant shed. I call it by that name because none 

 of the birds have any intention of making it a home in which to bring up 

 a family. This temporary shelter is a ventilating tower at the northeast 

 corner of the Western Departmental Building. Here on any fine evening 

 in May they may be seen in countless numbers, sporting and chas- 

 ing each other high in air, at first extendmg their gambols over the 

 who c of Parliament Hill, waiting for the stragglers to come home, per 

 haps from an afternoon's trip to the St. Lawrence, or far back over the 

 Laurentian Mountains, for distance is nothing to them . As the even- 

 ing advances, however, the whole flock commences to take up a circling 

 motion round the favourite tower, though still high above it. Gradually 

 the circle becomes narrower and a few birds will now and then dash 

 down at the windows of the tower as if about to enter ; but these are 

 only " false offers," for the birds sheer off and rejoin the twittering 

 stream above, which is all the while drawing lower down and closer 

 together, until now the sun has fallen behind Chelsea Mountain, and 

 just as the twilight comes on, the stream narrows to a living whirlpool 

 whose vortex is the tower window. Then with the roar of many wings 

 beating together they pour into the opening. There are four such 

 windows within a few feet of one another, but the swifts use only one, 

 the eastern ; and as it is too narrow for the multitude of birds pres- 

 sing in, many flutter against the stone work and eddying off at the sides 

 tieighten the resemblance of the whole to a whirlpool. These fall 

 into the main current again when its force slackens, and soon the last 

 swift has entered for the night. 



The great Audubon and several other ornithologists describe the 

 chimney swifts as prolonging these gambols after sundown far into 

 the dusk, and Nuttall even calls them nocturnal birds ; but with us 

 they always retire with, or soon after, the setting sun, and when the last 

 straggler has disappeared there is still light enough to read a book without 



