28 FHE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



nest, the frightened bird perching far up the shaft, and the nar- 

 row line of sky above her ; and there also was the small glass at 

 the tip of my fishing rod, and in its oval face was an image of the 

 inside of the shallow nest with two fat, f eatherless, sightless swifts 

 flopping about in it. Nothing could now be easier than to watch 

 the entire process of rearing the infant projectiles from, a state of 

 feebleness and imbecility to that marvelous condition of grace, 

 speed, and intelligence at which they would, in the natural course 

 of events, arrive in a few brief days. 



My first desire was to ascertain how they were fed. The barn 

 swallows, who by some freak have taken possession of a pewee's 

 nest just under the eaves of my cottage, feed their young with 

 insects which they bring bristling in their beaks. I had expected 

 to see the swifts bring insects to their babies, but my closest 

 scrutiny failed to discover anything in their beaks when they 

 arrived, or when they went upon the nest. Under the new con- 

 ditions I watched with double care and attention. At first, for 

 nearly an hour, the birds were too much disturbed by the glass 

 and fishing rod to settle upon the nest. They came close to it and 

 chattered, but flew nervously and noisily, as though to frighten 

 away the intruder. After a while they grew quieter, and finally 

 one arrived with food. She came to the nest, mounted its edge, 

 and leaned toward the open-mouthed young. Then she moved 

 violently, and seemed to hang over the infants, to pound them, 

 shake them, and push them back and forth in a singularly rough 

 and unkind way. Seeing all these things by double reflection and 

 in the dim light of the chimney, I could not be certain of details, 

 but all that I saw reminded me of descriptions I had heard and 

 read, of feeding young birds by regurgitation, while nothing that 

 went on looked like the quiet and matter-of-fact process of drop- 

 ping a fly into a little bird's gaping mouth. It seemed to me that 

 the parent inserted her bill in the young one's throat, and then 

 presumably pumped into it, by the violent motions which she 

 made, a portion of the food previously swallowed by her. After 

 being fed, the young dropped back limp or satisfied into the nest, 

 and were promptly sat upon and hustled into a comfortable and 

 orderly condition. Apparently both birds joined in feeding their 

 offspring, for I saw first one and then the other go through this 

 peculiar process. 



Supposing that I should have ample opportunity for several 

 days to watch the feeding, I did not devote myself to its study as 

 faithfully as I should have, had I foreseen the distressing event 

 which was in store for my tenants. On Saturday afternoon a 

 light rain fell. The faithful mother sat upon her nest while 

 multitudes of tiny drops floated down the chimney. They did not 

 fall, but seemed to sail unwillingly through the gloom, held aloft 



