56 STOJ^JES ABOUT BIRDS. 



There are five kinds of swallows that come to us in the summer. There 

 is the chimney swallow, the swift, that makes a squealing noise as he flies, the 

 house martin, about which we shall hav^e something to say, and the sand 

 martin, that makes deep burrows in a cliff or in a sand-bank, and places her 

 nest at the bottom, a little after the fashion of the kingfisher. 



In fine dry weather, you see the swallows fly high up in the air, but in 

 rainy seasons they come lower, and skim near the ground. Their way of 

 flying high or low depends upon the insects, for when it rains or is damp, 

 the insects come near the ground ; and these are what the swallow is look- 

 ing for. 



For a short time after their arrival, the swallows seem to be doing nothing 

 but enjoying themselves, and recovering from the fatigues of the journey. 

 By-and-by, however, they begin to think of building their nests. 



The old birds go back to those already made, and find the old homes out 

 by instinct. 



The chimney swallow does not always build in the stack of chimneys, but 

 chooses often to place her nest under the eaves of an outhouse, or even among 

 the rafters of a barn. 



One spring a pair of swallows were resolved to build in the rafters of a 

 summer-house. They were not in the least disturbed by the constant presence 

 of persons going in and out, but completed their task, carrying pellets of mud 

 and soft earth in their beaks, and bents of grass to mix with it. 



When the saucer-shaped nest was finished, the eggs were laid and 

 hatched Avithout any misfortune happening. The young nestlings had now 

 to be fed every few minutes from morning till night. It was a matter of 

 curiosity how the old swallows would like to pass in and out over the heads 

 of persons sitting in the summer-house, and who, by putting out their hands, 

 could touch the nest. But this fact did not deter them from performing their 

 parental duties, and the little birds grew and throve merrily. 



Their heads were soon seen peering above the edge of the nest. As a 

 rule, they were silent ; but long before any one could discern the parent bird, 

 they had spied her out in the far distance. They would set up a chirp of 

 delight, raise themselves in the nest, and a row of little beaks would open 

 wide. A minute after, in would dart the mother swallow, without the least 

 fear or hesitation, cling to the rafter by the side of the nest, and pop a fly into 

 the mouth of the one nearest to her, uttering at the same time a peculiar and 



