THE PURPLE MARTIN. 



(Progne subis.} 



BEAUTIFUL and interesting as 

 this bird is known to be, less 

 has been said about it than of 

 any of our common birds of 

 agreeable song and manners. Its com 

 mon names are house martin, purple 

 swallow, American martin, and violet 

 swallow. The young male is several 

 years in attaining the uniform glossy 

 violet-black plumage, the steel blue 

 feathers appearing in gradually coales 

 cing patches. It is common to the 

 whole of temperate North America, 

 wintering in Mexico and the Bermudas. 

 It is only accidental in Europe. The 

 adult female is glossy blue-black above, 

 becoming hoary grayish on the fore 

 head, and sometimes on the nape also. 

 The young are similar to the adult 

 female. 



Ridgway says that no bird of America 

 is more deserving of protection and of 

 encouragement to live about the habi 

 tations of man than the purple martin. 

 One pair of them will destroy more 

 insects in a season than all the English 

 sparrows in a township will kill in their 

 life-time. Besides, their notes are 

 pleasing to the ear, and their actions 

 both when on the wing and when perch 

 ing upon their boxes extremely inter 

 esting. During the breeding-season 

 the male has a continued and varied 

 song of great beauty and considerable 

 power; and it is as much on account of 

 the sweetness of their notes as for their 

 familiarity and usefulness that these 

 birds are such general favorites. In 

 the wild woods where they have not 

 had opportunity to avail themselves of 

 man's hospitality they are as lovely 

 and musical as when semi-domesticated 

 in our door-yards, and, it is said, are in 

 all respects exactly the same birds. 

 When Audubon was traveling through 

 the Middle States, he reported that 

 almost every country tavern had a mar 

 tin-box on the upper part of its sign 

 board, and commented: "I have ob 

 served that the handsomer the box, the 

 better does the inn prove to be." The 

 Indians hung up calabashes for the 



martins, so they would keep the vul 

 tures from the deerskins and venison 

 that were drying. Mr. Nehrling says 

 that the martin is as well satisfied with 

 the simple hollow gourd attached to a 

 pole near a negro hut as with the most 

 ornamental and best arranged martin- 

 house in the beautiful gardens and 

 parks of rich planters and opulent mer 

 chants. He claims that where no nest 

 ing boxes are provided our martin will 

 not breed, and that it hardly ever 

 accepts nesting-boxes attached to trees, 

 preferring localities where the chance is 

 given to dart in and out uninterrupted 

 by any obstacle. 



The struggle between the martins and 

 sparrows is so bitter that one pair of 

 martins watched by Mr. Widmann 

 adopted the plan of never leaving the 

 nest alone, taking turns in going for 

 food, because, as he explains, "it is com 

 paratively easy to keep a sparrow out 

 of a box, but it is impossible for a mar 

 tin to dislodge him after he has built a 

 nest." 



Mr. Keyser says that in the autumn 

 the martins assemble in flocks, some 

 times large enough to suggest an ecu 

 menical council, and fall to cackling, 

 twittering, discussing, and in many 

 other ways making preparation for their 

 aerial voyage to another clime. They 

 really seem to regret being compelled 

 to leave their pleasant summer haunts, 

 if one may judge from the length and 

 fervor of their good-byes. " Perhaps 

 they are like human beings who have 

 a strong attachment for home, and must 

 visit every nook and tryst to say au re- 

 voir before -they take their departure. 

 One can easily imagine how dear to 

 their hearts are the scenes of their child 

 hood, and of their nest-building and 

 brood-rearing." After departing, they 

 sometimes return in a day or two before 

 they begin their southward pilgrimage 

 in real earnest. Do they get homesick 

 after they have gone some distance, 

 and return once more to look upon the 

 familiar scenes? It is one of the mys 

 teries of bird life. 



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