340 THE AMERICAN BARN SWALLOW. 



the same, according to age and season : wings and tail blackish, with purplish 

 or greenish reflections: tail deep!}- forked, the outer ])air of feathers being from 

 one to two inches longer, and the rest graduated ; white blotches on inner webs 

 (except on middle pair) follow the bifurcation. luunaturc: Forehead and 

 throat paler ; duller or brownish above ; lateral tail-feathers not so long. Length 

 about 7.00 (177.8); wing 4.75 (120.6): tail 3.00-4.50 (76.2-114.3); Ijill from 

 nostril .24 (6.1 ). 



Recognition Marks. — Aerial habit: rufous of throat and nnderi)arts; forked 

 tail: nest usually inside the barn. 



Nesting. — Nest: a neat bracket or half-bowl of nnul, luxuriously lined with 

 grass and feathers, and cemented to a beam of barn or Ijridge. In Washington 

 still nests occasionally in original haunts, viz., cliffs, caves, and crannied sea-walls. 

 Bggs: 3-6, of variable shape, — oval or elongated ; white or pinkish white and 

 spotted with cinnamon or umber. Av. size .76 x .53 (19.3x14). Season: last 

 week in May and first week in July ; two broods. Stehekin, Aug. 10, 1896, 4 eggs. 



General Range. — North .America at large. Perhaps the most widelv and 

 generally distributed of any American bird. Winters in Central and South 

 America. 



Range in Washington. — Summer resident of regular occurrence at lower 

 levels thruiiut the State, less common west of the Cascades, more common else- 

 where in the older settled valleys. 



Migrations. — Sprint/: c. Mav ist; Yakima County, .\pril 27, 1907: May 3. 

 1908. Pall: c. September loth; Seattle, September 20, 1907. 



Authorities. — Hirundo horeonini Benton. Cooper and Siickley, Rep. Pac. 

 R. R. Surv. XIL, pt. II.. i860, p. 184. T. C&S. L. Rh. D'. Kb. Ra. D-'. Ss'. Ss-\ 

 J. B. E. 



Specimens. — Prov. P'. C. E. 



ONE hardly knows what quality to admire most in this boyhood's and 

 life-long friend, the Barn Swallow. All the dear associations of life at the old 

 farm come thronging up at sight of him. You think of him somehow as a 

 part of the sacred past ; yet here he is today as young and as fresh as ever, 

 bubbling over with springtime laughter, ready for a frolic over the bee-haunted 

 meadows, or willing to settle down on the nearest fence-wire and recount to 

 you with sparkling eyes and eloquent gesture the ad\-entures of that glorious 

 trip up from Mexico, 



Perliaps it is liis childlike enthusiasm which stirs us. He has come many 

 a league this morning, yet he dashes in thru the open doors and shouts like a 

 boisterous schoolboy, "Here we are. you dear old barn ; ar'n't we glad to get 

 back again!" Then it's out to see the horse-pond; and down the lane where 

 the cattle go, with a dip under the bridge and a few turns over the orchard — 

 a new iiur]wse. or none, every second — life one full measure of abounding joy! 



Or is it the apotheosis of motion which takes the eye? See them as they 

 cast a magic spell over the glowing green of the young alfalfa, winding about 

 iti tlie dizzv patterns of a heavenlv ballet, i>r \\'uilting at a thought to snatch an 



