Home-Life in a Chimney 79 



bird was snatching at little dry twigs. She flew round and round, 

 and presently was gone. Suspecting that it was my little friend, I ran 

 quickly upstairs, and sure enough, there sat my bird upon the nest, 

 with a twig in her mouth, panting as if tired by extra exertion. Rest- 

 ing a moment, she proceeded to apply the salivary glue and adjust 

 the twig, and then settled again to the task of sitting. 



After a few days there came a cold storm, and it was believed that 

 the little brooder proved unfaithful to her duties, for late one evening 

 and early the following morning she was seen huddled with others 

 of her kind beneath the nest. Great were my fears that no birds 

 would ever come from these chilled eggs, but time made it clear that 

 the tiny creature knew what she was doing. This was the sole act 

 of parental neglect that was apparent during all the weeks required 

 to rear the family. Under date of June 17, I noted that the eggs 

 were constantly protected. At whatever time of day I looked I saw 

 a sitting bird. 



June 24 dawned fair and warm. As was my custom. I called 

 to say "good morning" into the chimney before going down to break- 

 fast, when I found that there was excitement in the little home. A 

 faint peep reached my ear, which caused the mother anxious restless- 

 ness each time it was repeated. From half-past eight until ten 

 o'clock that morning I sat at my post of observation, during which 

 time it appeared that two or three more young were hatched, for 

 there was much peeping on the part of the little ones and much 

 fidgeting about by the adults. Two shells, or parts of shells, were 

 tossed from the nest. Occasionally the parents exchanged places, 

 one brooding the infants while the other went out into the air. Even 

 at the tender age that must be reckoned by minutes, these young 

 birds were fed, seemingly, by regurgitation. 



During the progress of my study I found that one of the pair, 

 which from manners and appearance I judged to be the female, had 

 lost a tail feather, and this one I affectionately dubbed "Swiftie. " 

 She appeared worn out with anxiety added to the confinement of a long 

 period of incubation, and embraced every opportunity to rest, but 

 seasons of sleep were of short duration, for it seemed that the body 

 of the brooding bird was lifted each time a movement was felt 

 beneath. The mate, with his sleek coat, bright eyes and calm 

 demeanor, formed a decided contrast to the ragged, unkempt appear- 

 ance of the female. 



Even four days showed perceptible growth in the swiftlings. 

 They were not allowed to remain uncovered, a wise precaution, for 

 their bodies were perfectly naked. At this age the instinct of cleanli- 

 ness began to assert itself. The weak, awkward little creatures would 



