THE VIOLET-GREEN SWALLOW. 347 
inquire his business. Not, however, that these lovely creatures are either 
meddlesome or shrewish. Even when the nest is threatened by the strange 
presence, the birds seem unable to form any conception of harm, and pursue 
their way in sunny disregard. Especially pleasing to the eye is the pure white 
of the bird’s underparts, rising high 
on flanks and cheeks and sharply 
contrasting with the pattern of vio- 
let and green, in such fashion that, if 
Nature had invited us to ‘‘remold it 
nearer to the heart’s desire,” we 
must have declined the task. 
Before the advent of the white 
man upon Puget Sound, these birds 
commonly nested in deserted wood- 
pecker holes and in natural cavities 
of trees, while upon the East-side 
they nested (and still do to a large 
extent) upon the granite or lava 
cliffs. In the last-named situations 
they utilize the rocky clefts and in- 
accessible crannies, and are espec- 
ahem in Oregon. Photo by Finley and Bohlman, ally fond of the smaller vapor holes 
YOUNG VIOLET-GREEN SWALLOW. which characterize the basaltic for- 
mations. Favorable circumstances 
may attract a considerable colony, to the number of a hundred pairs or more, 
but even so it is not easy to find a getatable nest. If one is able to reach the 
actual nesting site, the mouth of the ancient gas-vent which the birds have 
chosen for a home may prove too small to admit the hand. 
Thruout the State, however, and especially upon the West-side, these 
exquisite birds are forsaking their ancient haunts and claiming protection of 
men. Already they have become common in larger cities, where they occupy 
bird-boxes and crannies of buildings. South Tacoma, being nearest to their 
old oak nurseries, is quite given over to them, and it is a pretty sight on a 
sunny day in April to see them fluttering about the cottages inspecting knot- 
holes and recessed gables or, in default of such conveniences, daintily voicing 
their disapproval of such neglect on the part of careless humans. 
In these birds and in the Barn Swallows, the well known twittering and 
creaking notes of Swallows most nearly approach the dignity of song. 
Indeed, Mr. Rathbun contends that the song heard at close quarters is a 
really creditable affair, varied, vivacious, and musical. 
The Violet-greens are somewhat less hardy or venturesome than the Tree 
Swallows, arriving usually during the last week in March. Last year’s 
