The White-throated Swift 
sound of a Swift’s wing cutting the air at close quarters. Two or three 
times he will dash past you, as though trying your nerves, and although 
he may not come closer than ten feet, the whistle of his wings is un¬ 
pleasantly suggestive of an effort to “get the range.” What a magnificent 
fellow he is, to be sure! A bent spring of steel,—the very embodiment 
of power! 
But see him at the nesting cliff, and taste life’s uttermost in speed. 
He is not a falling body, but a bolt launched from the blue. The de¬ 
scending stroke of his parabola is a thing to marvel at; but the vertical 
return, accomplished, it may be, within two feet of the cliff's face, really 
baffles the eye, and causes one to wonder how flesh and blood can stand 
such a strain. And while you are wondering, he repeats the device and 
cuts figures of eight with jutting rocks for foci, until you clutch dizzily 
at the ground for support. At such times you hear the characteristic 
notes which constitute a sort of war-cry rather than a song, consisting 
of a liquid, descending scale of musical, chuckling, or rubbing, tones. 
The noise produced is much as if two pebbles were being fiercely rubbed 
together in a rapidly filling jar of water. Anon the bird disappears as 
though the earth had swallowed him up, for the Swift has dashed into a 
crevice no larger than the thick of your hand without a sensible diminu¬ 
tion of speed, and with a nicety- of calculation which 
leaves you gasping again. It is notew 
in this connection that the White-throa 
Swift has a whorl of curious, stiffened 
blackish feathers in front of each eye 
It is possible that these serve the pur¬ 
pose of defense against the back-lash 
Taken at Laguna Blanca 
Photo by the Author 
FLASHING BLADES 
SNAP-SHOTS OF WHITE-THROATED 
