404 GENERAL HABITS AND TEAITS OP SWALLOWS 



rans through the entire fugue — the hu<;, ho^, of the Greek 

 mythology is reiterated forever. Among oar species, at any 

 rate — and I presume the exotics are much the same in this 

 respect — the Swallow's voice is unmistakable. The tone is 

 rather thin aud sharp, and the pitch is high ; the method of 

 delivery is quick, nervous, and even jerky — it is mere twitter- 

 ing, indeed, as always called, rather than any higher art of 

 singing. But the pieces are given with such volubility, vigor, 

 and verve — they are so earnest, artless, and spontaneous, ani- 

 mated with such a bright and joyous spirit, that we forget to 

 criticise, and even own the Swallow has a sympathetic voice. 

 The simple notes are susceptible of much modulation, and 

 capable of intoning the varied passions that these sanguine 

 birds experience momentarily; while the different species, 

 moreover, have each their own tone and inflections, easily dis- 

 criminated by the accustomed ear. If 1 may add, that our 

 Swallow medley touches a very secret chord of home associa- 

 tions, there is no wonder that it often moves us when more 

 ambitious music fails to please. 



Among the leading traits of the Swallow tribe, no one can 

 fail to recognize their sociability. " Troops of Swallows " is a 

 familiar phrase. The birds are not gregarious, in one sense, — 

 not like Blackbirds for example, or Bobolinks in the autumn, 

 flying in compact flocks, as if animated by a common impulse, 

 — for no two Swallows bend their flight alike. But in places 

 where, for any reason, the attraction is common. Swallows 

 swarm. In foraging for insects on their "happy hunting 

 ground ", thousands eddy and whirl inextricably confused in 

 flying currents, each one the vortex of a tiny maelstrom. In 

 the consultation over a projected journey, thousands seek 

 each others' countenance, perching in long lines upon the 

 ridge-pole, the telegraph, the picket-fence. On warm dry days, 

 the Swallows flock to the pools by the wayside, enclosing the 

 grateful water with a pretty frame, or dallying over the sur- 

 face with the yellow butterflies. But in nothing is the strength 

 of social instincts more apparent — in nothing is the amiability 

 of these cheery, genial birds displayed to more advantage — 

 than in their nesting. Every rafter of the barn may possess 

 its pair in peace, and every box beneath the caves its contented, 

 orderly inmates. The stretch of river-bank, the loamy crest of 

 the quarry, may be honey-combed with barrows, and never a 

 sign of strife in the settlement. Nay, more : among the Swal- 



