66 



tHE NIDIOtOGlSt. 



The Stoifts of "Stoallou:) Tree" 



U 



SWALLOW TREE" was 

 black oak, towering fifty f 

 air, and surrounded by a 



;a.s a large 

 feet in the 

 a grove of 

 maples which was locally known 

 as "Cecil's Grove." It was growing with- 

 in thirty feet of the National Road, about 

 five miles east of Wheeling, but as most of 

 the surrounding trees were as large or 

 larger than it, it would not attract any 

 more attention than they, if its history was 

 not known to you. This tree was nine feet 

 in circumference, three feet in diameter at 

 the base, and was hollow from tl:e top to 

 the bottom, being held up only by a thin 

 outside shell of wood and bark four and a 

 quarter inches thick. ' Twenty -two feet 

 eight inches from the ground there was a 

 large hole, six feet high by one wide. 



I dad seen a number of birds enter this 

 hole last year, on several occasions, and 

 thus determined to learn more of them. 



On April 18, 1894, the Chimney Swifts 

 and the "Swallows," which were the same 

 species, returned, and on May 8 they 

 became common. This spring I often 

 visited the tree, sometimes in company 

 with a number of boys, who threw stones 

 into the opening through which the birds 

 entered, to see the frightened Swifts de- 

 part. The first stone would only bring 

 one or half a dozen birds out, but as they 

 rained down thick and fast in the cavity 

 and rattled noisely down the trunk, the 

 Swifts would fly out in a perfect stream for 

 two or three minutes. When this stopped, 

 the stoning would begin again and the 

 sluggards would be forced to leave and 

 join the chattering hordes overhead. It is 

 safe to say when the boys left, that there 

 was not a bird inside. 



The number of these birds was between 

 five and eight hundred, and when they 

 were all on the wing, circling over and 

 around the grove, always keeping within 

 certain invisible limits, no pa.s.ser-by could 

 help admiring them. P'rom about six 

 o'clock until dark the Swifts could gener- 

 ally be .seen circling in the air, but on dark 

 rainy days, much earlier. 



I have stood within thirty feet of this 

 tree and watched this twittering mob, as 

 its individuals, after circling lower and 

 lower, would take a sudden downward 

 course and glide lightly into the opening. 

 I have never seen them alight anywhere, 



though doubtless they cling to the sides of 

 the tree or of a chimney. These perform- 

 ances I have watched with interest on many 

 occasions, but, on July 26, 1894, they 

 abruptly terminated. This was not the 

 fault of the birds, but of a new telephone 

 company, which thought the tree would 

 fall on their lines and cause considerable 

 damage, so, down came "Swallow Tree, " 

 and the Swifts dispersed, doubtless scatter- 

 ing to the unused chimneys of the neigh- 

 borhood. 



In the stump of the tree there were two 

 or three bushels of stones, which the boys 

 had thrown at the birds, while the bark 

 around the entrance was considerably 

 scratched. These birds onlj' roosted here, 

 for a thorough search revealed no sign of a 

 nest. 



Robert B. McLain. 



Elm Grove, W. Virginia. 



Nests Without Eggs. 



ARE birds' nests ever built for other 

 than nesting purposes, or at other 

 than the natural breeding season? 

 Ordinarily speaking, the question can 

 very readily be answered in the negative, 

 but it is a fact, well recognized by Orni- 

 thologists, that a few species repair their 

 old domiciles, or even build new ones, for 

 roosting places or for protection during 

 winter. 



I have myself watched Cactus Wrens in 

 New Mexico carrying grass and thicken- 

 ing the walls of their old nests in October, 

 for winter use, and have found them hidden 

 in their nests during a snowstorm in No- 

 vember. But there is another trait in bird 

 nature that I have seen very little of in 

 print — that of building nests before or after 

 the proper season, seemingly for the sole 

 purpose of practice or pastime, the out- 

 cropping of an instinct that prompts am- 

 bitious birds to build out of season even 

 though they know that their work will be 

 lost. 



Perhaps the sight of an old nest may 

 awaken a thought of what is to come and 

 suggest to the bird that it try its hand at 

 weaving in a twig or two, to .see if the art 

 is still fresh in its little brain, or perhaps 

 young birds thinking that practice will 

 benefit them — but jumping at conclusions 

 is always dangerous. It is safe to say, 



