200 CHOBDEILES POPETUE. 



I have mentioned under descriptions that the Night Hawks deposited their eggs on 

 the flat roofs of houses in cities. Several species of our native birds have taken advantage 

 of the changes wrought by the settlement of the section in which they live; thus, instead of 

 .being driven away, when their former breeding places were encroached upon and, in many 

 instances, destroyed, they have promptly availed themselves of the opportunities afforded 

 by the many structures erected by man and built their nests in them. This is especially 

 noticeable among the Swallows, for all, but one, of our Eastern species have greatly modi- 

 fied their habits, and the breeding range of all has become extended since the occupation of 

 the country by the whites. The Wrens have generally abandoned holes in rocks and trees 

 and now resort to buildings, at least in the vicinity of settlements. The Chimney Swift 

 may be mentioned as another species whose habits have been utterly changed by the inno- 

 vations of man, and the same is true of the Phoebe, though to a limited extent. But in the 

 cases mentioned and in all others which occur, one or two species excepted, the birds 

 which have taken up their abodes in the immediate presence of ntan, are small, consequent- 

 ly are seldom, if ever, molested, and so, from the first, they readily became familiar with 

 the ways of civilization. With the Night Hawks, however, this is quite different, they 

 were most emphatically a bird of the wilderness and although they resort to newly made 

 clearings and open fields, these are almost always remote from houses, and when disturbed 

 once or twice in any locality, the birds promptly take their departure. Thus, it is almost 

 impossible to find the nest of one of these birds near any of the towns in the immediate 

 vicinity of Boston yet, most unexpectedly, we find them common in the midst of the metrop- 

 olis, itself. 



It is true that the gravel-covered roofs do, in a measure, resemble the barren spots of 

 land of which they are so fond, but if the birds ever chanced to mistake the extended 

 rows of house-tops for the quiet, hill-side fields in which they were wont to nest, one 

 would think that the sights, odors, and, above all, the constant din arising from the midst of a 

 great city would speedily dispel all such illusions. Yet it did not, for some years ago, the 

 first pair of Night Hawks ventured to lay their eggs on a roof in Boston and now they are 

 common there through the summer. Both sexes are found there during the day and in the 

 twilight, the peculiar, sharp, rapidly given cry may be heard above the noise caused by 

 the surrounding multitude, and then they will be seen to plunge downward toward the 

 crowded streets, but their booming note, if heard at all, comes faintly to the ear, being 

 almost, if not quite, lost in the constant waves of louder sounds. Master Outram Bangs 

 who has taken the eggs from roofs, informs me that the females were quite tame when ap- 

 proached, flying only a few feet and showing no solicitude, whatever, when their eggs were 

 removed. 



I have alluded to the notes of the male for, excepting the peculiar croak, the females 

 are silent. The singular cry which consists of but one sharp note repeated at intervals, is 

 usually given while the birds are on the wing, but on several occasions I have heard it 

 when they were perched on the limbs of high trees. This rude attempt at melody is only 

 made through the breeding season and more often in the twilight or during cloudy days, 

 seldom in the bright sunlight. The bird mounts upward with that peculiar, eccentric 



