large chimney stack in a city near me, for more than a month and a half. Sev- 

 eral times I went to town to witness the spectacle, and a spectacle it was; ten 

 thousand of them, I should think, filling the air above a whole square like a 

 whirling swarm of huge black bees, but saluting the ear with a multitudinous 

 chippering, instead of a humming. People gathered upon the sidewalks to 

 see them. It was a rare circus performance, free to all. After a great many 

 feints and playful approaches, the whirling ring of birds would suddenly grow 

 denser above the chimney ; then a stream of them, as if drawn down by some 

 power of suction, would pour into the opening. Only a few seconds would 

 this downward rush continue; as if the spirit of frolic had again got the up- 

 per hand of them, the ring would rise, and the chippering and circling go on. 

 In a minute or two the same manoeuver would be repeated, the chimney, as 

 it were, taking its swallows at intervals to prevent choking. It usually took 

 a half hour or more for the birds all to disappear down its capacious throat. 

 There was always an air of timidity and irresolution about their approach to 

 the chimney, just as there always is about their approach to the dead tree top 

 from which they procure their twigs for nest-building. Many times did I see 

 birds hesitate above the opening and then pass on. Apparently they had not 

 struck it at just the right angle. On one occasion a solitary bird was left 

 flying, and it took three or four trials either to make up its mind or to catch 

 the trick of the descent. On dark or threatening or stormy days the birds 

 would begin to assemble by mid-afternoon, and by four or five o'clock were all 

 in their lodgings. 



The chimney is a capacious one, forty or fifty feet high by nearly three 

 feet square, yet it did not seem adequate to afiford breathing space for so 

 many birds. I was curious to know how they disposed themselves inside 

 there. At the bottom was a small opening. Holding my ear to it. I could 

 hear a continuous chippering and humming, as if the birds were still all in 

 motion, like an agitated beehive. At nine o'clock this multitudinous sound of 

 wings and voices was still going on, and doubtless it was kept up all night. 

 What was the meaning of it? Was the press of birds so great that tliey 

 needed to keep their wings moving to ventilate the shaft, as do certain of the 

 bees in a crowded hive? Or were these restless spirits unal)le to fold their 

 wings even in sleep ? I was very curious to get a peep inside that chimney when 

 the swifts were in it. So one afternoon this opportunity was afforded me by 

 the removal of the large smoke-pipe of the oil steam lioiler. This left an 

 opening into which I could thrust my head and shoulders. The sound of 

 wings and voices filled the hollow shaft. On looking up I saw the sides of 

 the chimney for about half its length paved with the restless birds: they sat so 

 closely together that their bodies touched. But a large number of them were 

 constantly on the wing, showing against the .sky light as if they were leaving 

 the chimney. But they did not leave it. They rose up a few feet and tiien 

 resumed their positions upon the sides. It was this movement that caused 



27 



