August 



the cock bird flew in with great commotion, imitating 

 the hen by hanging before the nest, but if any of 

 his offspring opened their mouths in the hope that 

 their sire had at last turned honest breadwinner, they 

 had only their pains for reward as he darted out 

 leaving them no better for his visit. The cock 

 was a gentleman above nursery matters. The hen 

 regularly removed the castings of the young birds, 

 carrying the membranous sac with its enclosure 

 in her bill, and dropping it outside the shed. 

 The young are early taught that no good swallow 

 fouls his own nest, and their efforts to comply 

 with the rule evince a certain physical, as well as 

 moral, aptitude. 



It was the last day of August when, by the aid of 

 two ladders, I went up to photograph the brood. I 

 found the six birds, now fully fledged, packed closely 

 in the nest in such a manner that each side presented 

 a row of three heads and three tails disposed alter- 

 nately. Owing to the ill-lighted situation, the exposure 

 unfortunately proved insufficient. Upon ascending 

 the following day to rectify the error, the birds had 

 already taken wing. From this it would appear that 

 young birds, although fully fledged for flight, will 

 not leave the nest of their own accord. On the 

 contrary, when I went up the previous day, any of 

 the young which had been perching on the beam 

 stowed themselves tightly away in the nest as if for 

 protection. 



Since that experience, I always carry a number 

 271 



