94 BIRDS 



The Bank Swallow 



Perhaps you have seen a sand bank somewhere, prob- 

 ably near a river or pond, where the side of the bank was 

 filled with holes as if a small cannon had been trained 

 against it as a target. In and out of the holes fly the 

 smallest of the swallows, that are sometimes, with good 

 reason, called sand martins. No lovely metallic blue or 

 glistening buff adorns their dull plumage, which is plain 

 brownish gray above, white imdemeath, with a grayish 

 band across the breast. Only their cousin, the rough- 

 winged swallow, whose breast is brownish gray, is so 

 plainly dressed. 



The giggUng twitter of the bank swallows as they wheel 

 and dart through the air proves that they are never too 

 busy hunting for a dinner to speak a cheerful word to their 

 friends. Year after year a colony will return to a favorite 

 bank, whose face has been honeycombed with such care. 

 Think of the labor and patience required for so small a bird 

 to dig a tunnel two feet deep, more or less, and enlarged at 

 the far end! Some nests have been placed as far as four 

 feet from the entrance. One is not surprised at the big 

 kingfisher, who also tunnels a hole in a bank for his family, 

 because his long, strong bill makes digging comparatively 

 easy; but for the small, weak-footed swallow, the perform- 

 ance is remarkable. 



The Tree Swallow 



Probably this is the most abundant swallow that we 

 have; certainly countless numbers assemble every year in 

 the Long Island and Jersey marshes, and perch on the tele- 



