THE PURPLE MARTIN. 173 



the tree on the trunk of which the Blue-bird's box was fastened, caught the 

 Martin, and clipped his tail with scissors, in the hope that such mortifying 

 punishment might prove effectual in inducing him to remove to his own 

 tenement. No such thing; for no sooner had I launched him into the air, 

 than he at once rushed back to the box. I again caught him, and clipped 

 the tip of each wing in such a manner that he still could fly sufficiently well 

 to procure food, and once more set him at liberty. The desired effect, 

 however, was not produced, and as I saw the pertinacious Martin keep the 

 box in spite of all my wishes that he should give it up, I seized him in 

 anger, and disposed of him in such a way that he never returned to the 

 neighbourhood. 



At the house of a friend of mine in Louisiana, some Martins took posses- 

 sion of sundry holes in the cornices, and there reared their young for several 

 years, until the insects which they introduced to the house induced the 

 owner to think of a reform. Carpenters were employed to clean the place, 

 and close up the apertures by which the birds entered the cornice. This 

 was soon done. The Martins seemed in despair; they brought twigs and 

 other materials, and began to form nests wherever a hole could be found in 

 any part of the building; but were so chased off that after repeated attempts, 

 the season being in the mean time advanced, they were forced away, and 

 betook themselves to some Woodpeckers' holes on the dead trees about the 

 plantation. The next spring, a house was built for them. The erection of 

 such houses is a general practice, the Purple Martin being considered as a 

 privileged pilgrim, and the harbinger of spring. 



The note of the Martin is not melodious, but is nevertheless very pleasing. 

 The twitterings of the male while courting the female are more interesting. 

 Its notes are among the first that are heard in the morning, and are welcome 

 to the sense of every body. The industrious farmer rises from his bed as he 

 hears them. They are soon after mingled with those of many other birds, 

 and the husbandman, certain of a fine day, renews his peaceful labours with 

 an elated heart. The still more independent Indian is also fond of the Mar- 

 tin's company. He frequently hangs up a calabash on some twig near his 

 camp, and in this cradle the bird keeps watch, and sallies forth to drive off 

 the vulture that might otherwise commit depredations on the deer-skins or 

 pieces of venison exposed to the air to be dried. The slaves in the Southern 

 States take more pains to accommodate this favourite bird. The calabash is 

 neatly scooped out, and attached to the flexible top of a cane, brought from 

 the swamp, where that plant usually grows, and placed close to their huts. 

 Almost every country tavern has a Martin box on the upper part of its sign- 

 board; and I have observed that the handsomer the box, the better does the 

 inn generally prove to be. 



