76 HOMES WITHOUT HANDS. 



dons the burrow, and resumes its labors elsewhere, and in a piece 

 of hard sandstone rock many of these incomplete excavations 

 may be seen. 



At the farthest extremity of the burrow, which is always rath- 

 er larger than the shaft, is placed the nest — a very simple struc- 

 ture, being little more than a mass of dry herbage and soft feath- 

 ers, pressed together by the weight of the bird's body. Upon 

 this primitive nest are laid the eggs, which are very small, afld 

 of a delicate pinky whiteness. 



Few foes can work harm to the Sand Martin during the task 

 of incubation. Eats would find the soft sandy soil crumble away 

 from their grasp; and even the lithe weasel would experience 

 some difficulty in gaining admission to the nest. After the 

 young Sand Martins are hatched, many foes are on the, watch 

 for them. The magpie and crow wait about the entrance of the 

 holes, in order to snap up the inexperienced birds while making 

 their first essays at flight; and the kestrel and sparrow-hawk 

 come sweeping suddenly among them, and carry off spme help- 

 less victim in their talons. 



Man is perhaps the worst foe of the Sand Martin, for there is 

 a mixture of adventure and danger in taking the eggs, which is 

 irresistible to the British schoolboy. To climb up a perpendicu- 

 lar rock, to cling with ^one hand, while the other is thrust into 

 the burrow, and to know that a chance slip will certainly snap 

 the invading arm like a tobacco-pipe stem, is a combination of 

 joys which no well-conditioned boy can withstand. 



Fortunately for the Sand Martins, many of their nests are 

 placed in situations which no boy ca.n reach, and there are hap- 

 pily some instances where the services which they render to 

 mankind are properly appreciated. Mr. C. Simeon, in his "Stray 

 Notes on Fishing and Natural History," gives an interesting ac- 

 count of some Sand Martins whichmswere thus gratefully protect- 

 ed : 



" While waiting for the train one afternoon at "Weybridge, I 

 amused myself with watching the Sand Martins, who have there 

 a large establishment on either side of the cutting, and got into 

 conversation with one of the porters about them. On my say- 

 ing, I supposed that the boys robbed a good many of the nests, 

 he answered, ' Oh, sir, they would if they were allowed, but the 

 birds are such good friends to us, that we won't let any body 

 meddle with them.' I fancied at first that he spoke of them as 



