96 Bird - Lore 



But our Swallows are not discouraged. Despair never enters into bird-life. 

 If the old tenements are torn down in the progress of civilization, some other place 

 must be found for a home. Leaving the fence one at a time, they are soon perch- 

 ing on the saddle boards of a near-by house. They stop their twittering for a 

 moment, to look carefully at two strange-appearing boxes, one on the wall of the 

 house, the other on a pole near the barn door. These bear no resemblance to 

 a hollow stump, or log; but a small, round opening in the side of each rivets their 

 attention. It brings back memories of that knot-hole in the old pine log where, 

 last summer, the love of home life found pleasant expression. Circling round 

 and round the box on the pole, each time coming a little nearer, one pair — as the 

 picture shows — makes a selection of a home. The others, after much apparent 

 argument among themselves, and some opposition from the first pair, fix on the 

 box near the kitchen door for their summer retreat. Very soon the female Swallow 

 enters the box on the pole, though not till each in turn had stood many times on 

 the peg that answers for a door-step, and peered cautiously into the mysterious 

 apartment. In another photograph, the female bird is coming out from one of her 

 visits of inspection, while her mate is keeping watch on the flat tower. The 

 birds soon got on very friendly terms with the landlord who provided these free 

 tenements, so the latter was able to get the pictures of his tenants by holding 

 the camera in his hands. One day he walked up and put his hand on the back 

 of the male bird, as it was looking in the nest, engrossed in admiration of the 

 young. 



The Tree Swallows were not alone in their long jjilgrimage northward. 

 Among the m^Tiads of birds that were speeding, or had sped on in the same di- 

 rection, were a pair of Bluebirds that had arrived nearly a month before the 

 Swallows. Strange enough, their home for a few years past had been a box, 

 with a slightly larger door, on the rear wall of the house. These earlier migrants 

 had their nest nearly finished when the Swallows appeared. Hearing the "tweet, 

 tweet, twee-ee" of the Swallows, they hurry over to the front of the house, and 

 fiercely attack the newcomers. Thus began a war between these rival birds 

 that lasted for several weeks. 



While the male fights the Bluebird and guards the box, his mate does much 

 more than cheer him on. Under her untiring efforts, a carpet of dried grass 

 is soon placed in the box. This she covers with a soft layer of small, white, hen 

 feathers. A few weeks pass, and six young birds with closed eyes, and feather- 

 less bodies, snuggle, with open mouths, among the feathers. As the landlord 

 has no objection to children in his tenements, the Swallows are undisturbed, 

 so far as he is concerned. But, one morning, the Bluebird was in a bad humor. 

 Perhaps some little domestic trouble in the rear of the house had ruffled his tem- 

 per. At any rate, he comes to the Swallow's nest and vigorously attacks the in- 

 mates. Immediately the watchful male swoops down upon the intruder. The 

 mother bird rushes from her nest, to lend a bill in the fray. The rivals meet 

 in the air, and, with toes and bills locked together, and wings pounding each 



