THE BARN SWALLOW 



There is no pleasanter sight among birds than a family of 

 young reared in the neighborhood of man and often on some part 

 of his house itself. Visit an old farmhouse; look about and see 

 how many welcome guests the farmer shelters without thought of 

 pecuniary profit. Under the woodshed, on a beam, the Phcebe has 

 built a nest of moss, from which she flies to the barnyard to pursue 

 the insects that swarm there. In the vines on the piazza, Robins 

 and Chipping Sparrows have reared their young. In the old elm 

 over the door, an Oriole has woven a nest with thread twitched 

 from the clothesline or perhaps purposely laid out for her, and the 

 orchard shelters numbers of species — Bluebirds, Woodpeckers, King- 

 birds, and Chebecs. Of all these tenants, however, none seem so 

 completely at home as the swallows; none show so little concern at 

 man's presence; none take possession so coolly of the boxes, the 

 eaves, or the rafters where they build. Their kindred lived with 

 man, ages ago, in Greece and Rome; they have been welcomed 

 each spring as heralds of a joyful season; their departure has been 

 watched with regret. Though they have but few notes which are 

 musical, yet their grace, agility, and swiftness have passed into 

 proverb and song. 



There are several species of swallow, or martin, which take 

 advantage of man's structures in or on which to place their nests, 

 but the most numerous, the most familiar to people in general, and 

 perhaps the most attractive, is the Barn Swallow. This is the only 

 species whose outer tail feathers are long and pointed, and form 



