110 Coues on the Eave, Cliff, or Crescent Swallow . 
and untidy, they were voted a nuisance, to be abated ; but it was 
“ no use ” ; they stuck, and so did their nests. In the adjoining 
British province of Manitoba, at one of the trading-posts I visited, 
it was the same thing over again ; their nests were repeatedly de- 
molished, on account of the racket and clutter they 'made, till the 
irate lord of the manor found it cheaper in the end to let the birds 
alone, and take his chances of the morning nap. I think such ob- 
stinacy is due to the bird’s reluctance to give up the much-needed 
shelter which the eaves provide against the weather, — indeed, this 
may have had something to do with the change of habit in the be- 
ginning. The Cliff Swallow’s nest is built entirely of mud, which, 
when sun-baked into “ adobe,” is secure enough in dry weather, but 
liable to be loosened or washed away during a storm. In fact, this 
accident is of continual occurrence, just as it is in the cases of the 
Chimney-Swifts. The birds’ instinct, — whatever that may mean ; 
I despise the word as a label of our ignorance and conceit, — say, 
rather, their reason, teaches them to come in out of the rain. This 
may also have something to do with the clustering of nests, commonly 
observed when the birds build on the faces of cliffs ; for obviously 
such a mass would withstand the weather better than a single 
edifice. 
It is pleasant to watch the establishment and progress of a colony 
of these birds. Suddenly they appear, — quite animated and enthu- 
siastic, but undecided as yet ; an impromptu debating society on 
the fly, with a good deal of sawing the air to accomplish before final 
resolutions are passed. The plot thickens ; some Swallows are seen 
clinging to the slightest inequalities beneath' the eaves, others are 
couriers to and from the nearest mud-puddle ; others again alight 
like feathers by the water’s side, and all are in a twitter of excite- 
ment. Watching closely these curious sons and daughters of Israel 
at their ingenious trade of making bricks, we may chance to see a 
circle of them gathered around the margin of the pool, insecurely 
balanced on their tiny feet, tilting their tails and ducking their 
heads to pick up little “ gobs ” of mud. These are rolled round in 
their mouths till tempered, and made like a quid into globular form, 
with a curious working of their jaws ; then off go the birds, and 
stick the pellet against the wall, as carefully as ever a sailor, about 
to spin a yarn, deposited his chew on the mantel-piece. The birds 
work indefatigably ; they are busy as bees, and a steady stream 
flows back and forth for several hours a day, with intervals for rest 
