154 



PURPLE MARTIN. 



abode. I never met with more than one man who disliked 

 the martins, and would not permit them to settle about his 

 house. This was a penurious close-fisted German, who hated 

 them, because, as he said, " they ate his peas." I told him 

 he must certainly be mistaken, as I never knew an instance 

 of martins eating peas ; but he replied with coolness, that 

 he had many times seen them himself " blaying near the hife, 

 and going sclinip, sclinap ; " by which I understood that it was 

 his bees that had been the sufferers ; and the charge could 

 not be denied. 



This sociable and half-domesticated bird arrives in the 

 southern frontiers of the United States late in February or 

 early in March ; reaches Pennsylvania about the 1st of April, 

 and extends his migrations as far north as the country round 

 Hudson's Bay, where he is first seen in Ma}', and disappears 

 in August ; so, according to the doctrine of torpidity, has, con- 

 sequently, a pretty long annual nap, in those frozen regions, 

 of eight or nine months under the ice! We, however, choose 

 to consider him as advancing northerly with the gradual 

 approach of spring, and retiring with his young family, on 

 the first decline of summer, to a more congenial climate. 



The summer residence of this agreeable bird is universally 

 among the habitations of man, who, having no interest in his 



who witnessed them, will show the possibility of much less powerful 

 birds performing an immense distance, especially where every mile 

 brings them an additional supply of food and a more genial climate. I 

 give his own words : — " I have had several opportunities, at the period 

 of their arrival, of seeing prodigious flocks moving over that city (New 

 Orleans) or its vicinity, at a considerable height, each bird performing 

 circular sweeps as it proceeded, for the purpose of procuring food 

 These flocks were loose, and moved either westward, or towards the 

 north-west, at a rate not exceeding four miles in the hour, as I walked 

 under one of them, with ease, for upwards of two miles, at that rate, on 

 the 4th of February 1821, on the bank of the river below the city, 

 constantly looking up at the birds, to the great astonishment of many 

 passengers, who were bent on far different pursuits. My Fahrenheit's 

 thermometer stood at 68°, the weather being calm and drizzly. This 

 flock extended about a mile and a half in length, by a quarter of a 

 mile in breadth." — Ed. 



