XXV 

 THE WIRE-TAILED SWALLOW 



WERE each species of bird to record in 

 writing its opinion of men, the resulting 

 document would certainly not be flatter- 

 ing to the human race. The inhumanity 

 of man would figure largely in it. The majority of the 

 feathered folk have but little cause to love their 

 human neighbours. Men steal their eggs, destroy 

 their nests, kill them in order to eat them or to decorate 

 women with their plumage, and capture them in order 

 to keep them in cages. A few species, however, ought 

 to regard man with friendly eyes, for they owe much 

 to him. The swallow tribe, for example, must ac- 

 knowledge man as its greatest benefactor. Take the 

 case of the common swallow {Hirundo mstica), the 

 joyful herald of the English summer, the bird to which 

 Gilbert White devotes a particularly charming letter. 

 All the places in which this species builds owe their 

 origin to human beings. The myriads of swallows 

 that visit Great Britain in the spring find in the 

 chimneys of houses ideal nesting places — hence the 

 birds are known as house or chimney swallows. 



** The swallow," writes White, " though called 

 150 



