96 Bird - Lore 
But our Swallows are not discouraged. Despair never enters into bird-life. 
If the old tenements are torn down in the progress of civilization, some other place 
must be found for a home. Leaving the fence one at a time, they are soon perch- 
ing on the saddle boards of a near-by house. They stop their twittering for a 
moment, to look carefully at two strange-appearing boxes, one on the wall of the 
house, the other on a pole near the barn door. These bear no resemblance to 
a hollow stump, or log; but a small, round opening in the side of each rivets their 
attention. It brings back memories of that knot-hole in the old pine log where, 
last summer, the love of home life found pleasant expression. Circling round 
and round the box on the pole, each time coming a little nearer, one pair—as the 
picture shows—makes a selection of a home. The others, after much apparent 
argument among themselves, and some opposition from the first pair, fix on the 
box.near the kitchen door for their summer retreat. Very soon the female Swallow 
enters the box on the pole, though not till each in turn had stood many times on 
the peg that answers for a door-step, and peered cautiously into the mysterious 
apartment. In another photograph, the female bird is coming out from one of her 
visits of inspection, while her mate is keeping watch on the flat tower. The 
birds soon got on very friendly terms with the landlord who provided these free 
tenements, so the latter was able to get the pictures of his tenants by holding 
the camera in his hands. One day he walked up and put his hand on the back 
of the male bird, as it was looking in the nest, engrossed in admiration of the 
young. 
The Tree Swallows were not alone in their long pilgrimage northward. 
Among the myriads of birds that were speeding, or had sped on in the same di- 
rection, were a pair of Bluebirds that had arrived nearly a month before the 
Swallows. Strange enough, their home for a few years past had been a box, 
with a slightly larger door, on the rear wall of the house. These earlier migrants 
had their nest nearly finished when the Swallows appeared. Hearing the “fweet, 
tweet, twee-ee” of. the Swallows, they hurry over to the front of the house, and 
fiercely attack the newcomers. Thus began a war between these rival birds 
that lasted for several weeks. 
While the male fights the Bluebird and guards the box, his mate does much 
more than cheer him on. Under her untiring efforts, a carpet of dried grass 
is soon placed in the box. This she covers with a soft layer of small, white, hen 
feathers. A few weeks pass, and six young birds with closed eyes, and feather- 
less bodies, snuggle, with open mouths, among the feathers. As the landlord 
has no objection to children in his tenements, the Swallows are undisturbed, 
so far as he is concerned. But, one morning, the Bluebird was in a bad humor. 
Perhaps some little domestic trouble in the rear of the house had ruffled his tem- 
per. At any rate, he comes to the Swallow’s nest and vigorously attacks the in- 
mates. Immediately the watchful male swoops down upon the intruder. The 
mother bird rushes from her nest, to lend a bill in the fray. The rivals meet 
in the air, and, with toes and bills locked together, and wings pounding each 
