The Northern Violet-green Swallow 
and are especially fond of the smaller 
vapor holes which characterize the 
basaltic formations. Favorable cir¬ 
cumstances may attract a consider¬ 
able colony, to the number of a hun¬ 
dred pairs or more, but even so it is 
not easy to find a getatable nest. 
If one is able to reach the actual 
nesting site, the mouth of the ancient 
gas-vent, which the birds have chosen 
for a home, may prove too small to 
admit the hand. 
Though the near presence of 
water is not a fundamental require¬ 
ment of this bird, I have found nests 
about some of the lesser sea-walls; 
and a mountain stream is more to 
the bird’s taste than an insipid lake 
or a brackish pool. 
The Violet-green Swallows seem 
reckless meteors, the White-throated Swifts; and while they will not 
follow them into some of their Lower Sonoran fastnesses, they are likely 
to share with them the austere hospitality of the wildest granite walls, 
Tehipite Dome or El Capitan. In a charmed spot I know near Santa 
Barbara, an epitome of romance which is yet but a doll’s house compared 
with Sentinel Rock or the desert-frowning bastions of San Jacinto, the 
following birds rear their young in perfect peace within the space of a 
stone’s cast: Western Red-tailed Hawk, Pacific Horned Owl, Cliff Swal¬ 
low, White-throated Swift, and Violet-green Swallow. 
But throughout the State these children of heaven are exhibiting 
a most commendable willingness to dwell among the children of men. We 
are not yet half alive to our privileges, but there are authentic records 
of Violet-greens nesting in the heart of the city, while such towns as happen 
to be near their ancient fastnesses are likely to be blessed in triple measure. 
It is a pretty sight on a sunny April day to see Violet-green Swallows 
fluttering about a suburban cottage, inspecting knot-holes or recessed 
gables, or, in default of such conveniences, daintily voicing their disap¬ 
pointment at such neglect on the part of careless humans. 
Although not formerly so fastidious—I have found cliff nests com¬ 
posed entirely of dried grass—these birds have become connoisseurs in 
upholstery of feathers, and their unglossed white eggs, five or six in 
number, are invariably smothered in purloined down, until we begin to 
Taken in Oregon Photo by Finley & Bohlman 
YOUNG VIOLET-GREENISWALLOW 
to be on excellent terms with those 
545 
