XIII. 



NOTES OF THE OBSERVATION OF SWALLOWS. 



By A. Sainsbukt Vekey, Memb. Brit. Oni. Tlnion. 



Mead at Watford, 2lst April, 1896. 



(Abridged.) 



The training of the Swallows in tlie art of flight commences 

 from their earliest infancy. So soon as the wings are little more 

 than mere flappers, the young birds leave their nests, and then, 

 small huddled-up bunches of feathers, sit perched upon rails or 

 fences, taking their first glimpses of the world. I have never 

 yet been able to ascertain how the little birds become aware of 

 the approach of their parent with food. Often, as I have watched 

 them, long before I could distinguish the particular bird from 

 others of its kind flying about, the inert little heaps would display 

 unusual animation ; then suddenly one would rise perpendicularly 

 in the air, when the parent, descending in the same line, trans- 

 ferred the food to its mouth. The old birds always feed their 

 young in the air in this manner, for wei'e they to meet in 

 a horizontal direction there would be danger of collision, and 

 it would be difficult also to transfer the food. 



Later on in their lives swallows seem to establish training- 

 grounds. About midsummer some favourable spot is selected, 

 and there in the evening a school of the biixls assembles, and then, 

 high in air, with screams and mad gambols and in wanton delight, 

 they combine business with pleasure. I have often observed 

 them, and felt the better for it. There is one such playing-field 

 (if, indeed, the tenn can be at all properly applied to anything in 

 the realm of air) near the Vicarage at Mill End, Rickmansworth, 



There is no better method of studying much that takes place 

 in Swallowland than by walking through a country village. TJpon 

 the lowly tenement of the labourer no costly decorations have 

 been lavished, so Nature herself has stepped in to adorn it, and 

 its walls and eaves, no longer bare, are embellished with Nature's 

 homes, and the swallow sings — for swallows do sing — from the 

 chimney-top above. Who has not entered into the spirit of the 

 wild chase when the parent swift is leading its screaming young 

 through eveiy devious way ? Who, also, when a river runs close 

 to the village, has failed to see the sand-martin come flying in, and 

 then, making two or three rapid courses up and down the length 

 of the street, hasten back again to the flowing stream of his watchful 

 care ? The swift, however, docs not belong to the swallow family, 

 but now takes its place in classification in company with the 

 nightjar among the Picarife or woodpeckers. Nevertheless, he still 

 displays a marked predilection for assimilating his habits to that 

 of his old friends the swallows. 



I now come to a very interesting phase of Swallowland, one, 

 too, that I have repeatedly met with since my first observation. 



