The Open Air 



across the tail), build sometimes in ihe shelter of the 

 porches of old houses. 



As you go in or out, the swallows visiting or 

 leaving their nests fly so closely as almost to brush 

 the face. Swallow means porch-bird, and for cen- 

 turies and centuries their nests have been placed in the 

 closest proximity to man. They might be called 

 man's birds, so attached are they to the human race. 

 I think the greatest ornament a house can have is the 

 nest of an eave-swallow under the eaves far superior 

 to the most elaborate carving, colouring, or arrange- 

 ment the architect can devise. There is no ornament 

 like the swallow's nest; the home of a messenger 

 between man and the blue heavens, between us and 

 the sunlight, and all the promise of the sky. The 

 joy of life, the highest and tenderest feelings, thoughts 

 that soar on the swallow's wings, come to the round 

 nest under the roof. Not only to-day, not only the 

 hopes of future years, but all the past dwells there. 

 Year after year the generations and descent of the 

 swallow have been associated with our homes, and 

 all the events of successive lives have taken place 

 under their guardianship. The swallow is the genius 

 of good to a house. Let its nest, then, stay; to me 

 it seems the extremity of barbarism, or rather 

 stupidity, to knock it down. I wish I could induce 

 them to build under the eaves of this house ; I would 

 if I could discover some means of communicating 

 with them. 



It is a peculiarity of the swallow that you cannot 

 make it afraid of you; just the reverse of other birds. 

 The swallow does not understand being repulsed, but 

 comes back again. Even knocking the nest down 

 will not drive it away, until the stupid process has 

 been repeated several years. The robin must be 



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