334 SWALLOWS. 
and the weather and seasons. The numbers of -inseéts that Swallows destroy in the 
aggregate is simply incalculable—in fact, beyond the reach of our usual notions of 
numeration—and the holocaust includes a large proportion of annoying or injurious 
kinds. The loquacity of the birds, and the unseemly hours they keep, babbling to an 
unaired world, together with the litter they make about the premises, sometimes brings 
them into disfavor, or even causes them to be summarily dispossessed. The tempting 
targets they offer when in flight, taxing the skill of the most expert marksman, is 
another cause of their wanton and cruel destruction. But the most determined and 
calculating utilitarian should be brought to see the impolicy of killing Swallows, and 
the sportsman be besought to consider its inhumanity. Needless taking of any life is a 
crime against nature—we may well pause at this, even if no spark of sentiment should 
kindle indignation at the thought of cutting short such useful, bright, and joyous life. 
Things both useful and beautiful are not so common that we can afford to sacrifice 
them in vain. The rowdy boys and all the crew of tramps and potters of the gun who 
shoot Swallows for sport may be seriously admonished that these birds are worth more 
to society than their idle, vicious selves. 
..“The song of Swallows strikes a single key-note—the theme runs through the 
entire fugue—the ruc, irus, of the Greek mythology is reiterated forever. Among our 
species, at any rate—and I presume the exotics are much the same in this respeét—the 
Swallow’s voice is unmistakable. The tone is rather thin and sharp, and the pitch is 
high; the method of delivery is quick, nervous, and even jerky—it is mere twittering, 
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 spon- 
taneous, animated 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 discriminated by the accustomed ear. If I may add, that our 
Swallow medley touches a very secret chord of home associations, 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 surface with the yellow butter- 
flies. But in nothing is the strength of social instinéts 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 
