260 AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



THE PURPLE MARTIN. 



Written for American Ornithology by Oliver Davie. 



With the exception of the little "Jennie Wren," the Robin, and Blue- 

 bird, there is scarcely any other bird that should call forth our love and 

 claim protection about our garden and houses more than the Purple, 

 or, as it is commonly called, "House Martin." The little Wrens keep 

 our ears open to their lively, chattering notes; our eyes open to see 

 their wonderful acrobatic movements up and down a tree trunk or limb, 

 with their out-of-sight antics behind these, or through the chinks and 

 crevices of some old barn. The Robin thrills the heart with his loud 

 piping notes of love in the early days of blustery March, reminding us 

 that the gentle hours of spring are at hand. The Bluebird cannot be 

 depended upon as a weather prognosticator, for many of his tribe re- 

 main with us all winter. It has hiding-places in hollow trees, where, 

 when wintry winds begin blowing, when sleet and snow begin to freeze 

 on the trunks of the forest, he retires to one of these retreats, and on 

 every sunny day he will come forth from his log-cabin and sound his 

 soft piccolo notes, saying, "The spring will come, the spring will 

 come." And we take his word for it. 



But the Martin, that sable-winged minstrel of mirth! Mirth and 

 jollity are in his throat and actions; he belongs to a choir that never 

 have had their harps tuned to sadness, tuned only for the merriment of 

 mankind; no dirge or tears are in his notes. His song is a succession 

 of screams and chatterings, which wind up with a clatter of rattle-bone 

 sounds, such as is heard from the end-men at the minstrel show. 



Being a true swallow he is possessed of wonderful power of flight. 

 Often on a clear summer day, when he has soared and circled as close 

 to the blue dome of heaven as possible, one can distinctly hear those 

 screams, chatters, and rattling bones hundreds of yards above. Often 

 at midnight, or long after he has retired to rest in his little house, he 

 utters these srame notes, but in a more subdued tone, as if scolding his 

 new bride, whom he has won only the day before. The Martin is an 

 early riser; in Ohio, in the month of June he is out of his house and on 

 the wing about half-past three, before the first rays of the sun begin to 

 streak the eastern sky, just as the cooling zephyrs begin to rise, when 

 one can inhale the fresh odors of living vegetation. He retires some- 

 times when it is so dark that it is difficult for him to find his way home. 



One of the economic points of value in these birds is that they live 

 exclusively on noxious winged insects, and destroy thousands of them 

 daily, from the most minute to the largest. I have seen them catch 

 the common locust in mid-air, and bring the screaming insect home as 



