Flying, flying South. 113 



flight, the bird hangs for a moment almost motionless 

 in the air. 



The swallow and the martin stay with us the summer 

 through. They even linger in the autumn. But the 

 swift is more a child of the south than either. He 

 comes in May and goes in August. Brief indeed for 



him is 



' the sun of summer in the north.' 



The feet of the swallow, although small and slender, 

 have a general resemblance to those of most other 

 birds. 



The tiny feet of the martin are feathered to the 

 toes. 



The foot of the swift, covered with bristle-like 

 feathers, and with all four claws placed in front, is 

 more like the paw of a small quadruped. 



Although the swift never settles on a tree, and very 

 rarely even on a roof, it often clings to the wall at the 

 entrance of its nest, and its claws are strong enough 

 to take a piece clean out of the hand of an incautious 

 captor. 



Little as we see of the swallow engaged in rearing 

 its young, the habits of the swift are even less familiar. 

 We see nothing of its nest unless we raise the tiles 

 where, far up under the roof, the bird crouches on the 

 scanty handful of grass and feathers she has caught 

 up in her flight. 



The life history of the martin is better known to us. 

 We watch the graceful little builders clinging to the 



8 



