AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 261 



food for their young. Of course the oldest of the young birds is al- 

 ways the strongest, and he generally forces his way to the front door 

 first. Here he opens his large yellow-rimmed mouth and swallows the 

 locust while it goes down singing, probably one of Beethoven's sonatas. 

 I have frequently seen the parent bird bring the large-sized dragon-flies 

 (we boys used to call them "snake-feeders") and feed them to their 

 young, who would swallow them, wings and all. This operation, how- 

 ever, often requires considerable time; while the youngest of the brood 

 were kept back, their oldest brother was occupying all the space of the 

 door, swallowing the dragon-fly. 



The parents will come and go, frequently without being able to feed 

 the younger of their brood at all, on account of the big fellow standing 

 in front of the door struggling to swallow the dragon-fly. 



Besides the credit which we must give Martins for destroying harm- 

 ful insects, and with all their other remunerative instincts, they have 

 one which will please the farmer or any person engaged in raising 

 poultry in rural districts. Martins will pursue and drive away hawks 

 of the largest size. He is a wise farmer who will encourage Martins, 

 for they will take care of the hawks, while the hens take care of their 

 broods. 



The Martin arrives in Central Ohio from its winter home in South 

 America, about the 9th day of April. This date, according to my notes 

 of twenty years, can almost be depended on, although they sometimes 

 reach this point as early as march 25th. 



The birds rear but one brood of young during the summer months, 

 and begin to congregate (young and old) by the middle or latter part 

 of August, this means the departure for their Southern home. In great 

 troops they depart, and, like bands of gypies, they make stops along 

 the route, according to the condition of the weather. 



In some of the smaller towns just at dusk one would imagine, from 

 the number of Martins to be seen roosting under the cornices of the 

 larger buildings, that they had come to capture the place, as Chinese 

 sometimes do "by force of numbers." But on they go, those merry 

 troopers, those minstrels carrying their banjoes and rattle bones with 

 them, cheering each other, for the way is long to the land of the olive 

 and cypress, the land where wild vines of myrtle and ivy hang in fes- 

 toons over the waters; where the Flamingo and Scarlet Ibis reflect their 

 cardinal colors, equaling those of the setting sun. 



Here in these tropical gardens they make their winter home, resting 

 at night in the hollows and cracks of the trees about them; in the day- 

 time they feed on winged insects never known where there young were 

 born. Here, while on the wing, they dip their bills into the waters to 



