THE SWALLOWS 87 



for them, and you see the young fly up to meet their parents, 

 taking the food from them in the air amid much twittering, 

 returning to their perches, where they wait in solemn silence 

 whilst the parents hunt about, filling their crops with flies. 

 And so from daylight till late at night they eat and grow, 

 and by the time the equinoctial gales begin to blow they are 

 prepared for the sea- voyage, and in September you may see 

 hundreds of them on the lee-side of a house or barn waiting 

 for a suitable wind ere they launch upon their journey, often 

 flying straight up into the cool, clear air ere they steer for 

 foreign shores. Some old fenmen declare the young birds 

 leave a fortnight before the old birds, but I cannot tell. But 

 after the main migration some of the young linger. I have 

 seen swallows every month of the year except January and 

 February, but I think these lingerers often pay dearly for 

 their tardiness by death ; but I should not be surprised to 

 hear that some " hide up," and remain over winter in this 

 country. Indeed, I am inclined to think they do. 



The swallow is not such a lover of the water as the sand- 

 martin ; indeed, after early spring he does not hunt so much 

 over the water, for flies are more plentiful inland. 



If his nest be robbed, he will build a second and a third, 

 but as a rule he is content with two broods a year. 



The bird's flight seems ever a joy ; he seems to contract 

 his wings with delight, giving a few quick beats and leaping 

 into the air, which he seems to embrace with passion. 



As a decorative bird the swallow is one of the most 

 charming, and I know of no more joyous vision than to 

 watch a little flock of freshly-arrived swallows with their 

 brilliant metallic blues and greens, blacks, whites, and 

 chestnuts, describing beautiful figures over a still lagoon as 

 they hawk for flies, and filling the soft genial spring air with 

 soft musical pheet-a-plieets, pheet-a-pJieets, now dipping into 

 the warm waters, now darting this way and that; visions 

 of joyous and beauteous life one can sit and behold all 

 through the spring day. One wants nothing when thus 



