194 
The Chimney Swift 
In the early morning, we hastened out to see if the Swifts were up and 
away. Over the rim of the chimney we found them coming, singly, by 
twos, by three, by fours ; making long sweeps toward the earth with the ; 
first bound; then, mounting high in air with innumerable twitterings, 
they would be off for the day’s experiences. At five minutes of six 
o’clock they ceased to appear. More than eight hundred had been counted 
within fifteen minutes. Something unexpected now happened. Back 
into the chimney came rushing the Swifts. In ten minutes one hundred 
and sixteen had reentered. What could it mean? Up from the east a 
dark, threatening cloud was moving. The Swifts had espied it, and all 
those that by this time were not far afield came hurrying back to the 
chimney of refuge. 
For many evenings we watched the birds. They always went to roost 
the same way, going through the same performances. For more than two 
weeks they continued with us. One day, near the 
Preparing middle of September, we saw from our window that 
to Migrate the ma pj e trees over on the hillside were turning yel- 
low and red. “Autumn has come,” said my friend. Perhaps the Swifts 
saw the sign, too, and passed the word that the summer had ended and 
the air would soon be free of insects. 
That evening, at the hour of gathering about the chimney less than 
one hundred appeared. The great flock had taken up its line of flight 
and was now far on its course toward the land of perpetual summer. 
The others lingered for some time, gathering in stragglers, and also 
those families the young of which had been slow in getting upon the 
wing; and then one day they, too, were off to join their fellows in the 
far south. 
We shall see no more of the Swifts until some day next spring, when 
we may hear falling to us from the air above a joyous twittering, and, 
looking up, may catch a view of the first arrival, a black, animated, bow- 
and-arrow-shaped object darting about at such a height that it seems to 
be scratching its back against the sky. 
These birds usually reach us in April, and within a few weeks nest- 
building begins. The structure is a bracket-work of 
A Bracket- dead twigs, glued together somewhat in the form of 
Nest a half-saucer. It may be found sticking to the wall on 
the inside of a chimney. 
These twigs are ends of small dead branches broken from the trees by 
the birds, who grasp them with their feet or bill while on the wing. 
They are fastened together by a salivary substance secreted by glands 
in the bird’s mouth. Apparently the flow of this gluing secretion is 
sometimes checked. This is possibly due in part to an unhealthy condi- 
tion of the bird. At such times the nest-building must proceed slowly, 
and its completion may even be delayed until time for the eggs to be 
deposited. Often nests have been examined which contained eggs many 
days before the full number of twigs had been glued in place. 
Before the settlement of this country the Swifts built their nests 
on the inner vertical sides of hollow trees, but when the white man came, 
with his chimneys, they left their homes and came to dwell with him. 
