134 THE SWIFT 



where, and on arriving at the church in Lower Street T was astonished 

 to see the poor birds hanging in clusters from the eaves and cornices ; 

 some clusters were at least two feet in length, and, at intervals, 

 benumbed individuals dropped from the outside of the clusters. 

 Many hundreds of the poor birds fell victims to the ruthless ignor- 

 ance of the children.' Being so susceptible of cold, the Swift 

 does not visit us until summer may be considered to have completely 

 set in. In the south it is generally seen towards the end of April, 

 but it generally brings up the rear of the migratory birds by 

 making its first appearance in the first or second week in May, in 

 the north. 



Early in August it makes itself, for a few days, more than ever 

 conspicuous by its wheeling flights around the buildings which 

 contain its nest, and then suddenly disappears. At this period, too, 

 its note is more frequently heard than during any other part of 

 its visit, and in this respect it is peculiar. As a general rule, birds 

 cease their song partially, if not entirely, when their eggs are hatched. 

 The new care of providing for the wants of a brood occupies their 

 time too much to allow leisure for musical performance, so that 

 with the exception of their call-notes, and their cries of alarm or 

 defiance, they are for a season mute. An early riser, and late 

 in retiring to roost, the Swift is always on the wing. Thus, whether 

 hunting on his own account or on behalf of his mate and nestlings, his 

 employment is unvaried, and the same amount of time is always 

 at his disposal for exercising his vocal powers. These are not 

 great ; he has no roundelay ; he neither warbles nor carols ; he 

 does not even twitter. His whole melody is a scream, unmusical 

 but most joyous ; a squeak would be a better name, but that, 

 instead of conveying a notion that it results from pain, it is full 

 of rollicking delight. Some compare it to the noise made by the 

 sharpening of a saw ; to me it seems such an expression of pent- 

 up joy as little children would make if unexpectedly released from 

 school, furnished with wings, and flung up into the air for a game 

 of hide-and-seek among the clouds. Such soarings aloft, such 

 chasings round the pinnacles of the church-tower and the gables 

 of the farm-houses, no wonder that they cannot contain them- 

 selves for joy. Every day brings its picnic or village feast, with 

 no weariness or depression on the morrow. 



The nest of the Swift is constructed of any scraps that the bird 

 may chance to find floating in the air, or brought to it by the 

 wind, for it literally never perches on the ground, whence it rises 

 with difficulty. These are rudely pressed together in any convenient 

 aperture or moulding in a building, and cemented together by 

 some glutinous secretion from the bird's mouth. Two eggs are 

 laid, and the young, as a matter of necessity, remain in the nest 

 until quite fledged. 



Another name for the Swift is Black Martin, and in heraldry 



