AUTUMN, 1912 287 



tried their best to get the young out. They came to 

 the nest with flies a dozen times a minute, and instead 

 of delivering the food into the open mouths, they 

 would flutter a moment with beaks just out of reach, 

 then drop off to circle round and repeat the action. 

 All these enticing arts were of no avail; the young 

 had not the strength or spirit to launch themselves on 

 the air, otherwise they would have been saved. 



On the following day, October 31, the weather was 

 exceptionally bad; it was cold, with a strong wind, 

 and rained heavily all day : the call of the young now 

 sounded feebler from the nest, and the eager little 

 black, flat heads and white throats were no longer 

 thrust out. Yet the old birds still laboured faithfully 

 to find them food, only on this last day they did not 

 go far in search of provender. They were too anxious, 

 or in some way conscious of the failing strength of 

 the young; they hawked after scarce flies up and 

 down the street, always near the nest, constantly 

 giving themselves that quick little shake by means 

 of which the swallow throws the rain off his feathers. 

 There was another noticeable change in them: at 

 intervals of about a quarter of an hour one or both 

 of the birds would fly into the nest and remain there 

 for a space of three or four minutes, doubtless to 

 warm the young. At all events, I don't think it was 

 merely to rest themselves, as on previous days I 

 noticed that when they wanted to rest they would 

 fly into one of the empty martins' nests close to 

 their own. 



That last day came to an early end, as it began to 



