THE SWALLOWS 
I F YOU were a bird, could you think of 
any way of earning a living more delightful 
than sailing about in the air all day, playing 
cross-tag on the wing with your companions, 
skimming low across the meadows, ponds and 
marshes, or rising high above them and darting 
hither and thither wherever you pleased, with- 
out knowing what it means to feel tired ? Swal- 
lows are as much in their element when in the 
air as fish are in water ; but don’t imagine they 
are there simply for fun. Their long, blade- 
like wings, which cut the air with such easy, 
but powerful strokes, propel them enormous 
distances before they have collected enough 
mosquitoes, gnats and other little gauzy- 
winged insects to supply such great energy and 
satisfy their hunger. With mouth widely 
gaping, leaving an opening in the front of their 
broad heads that stretches from ear to ear, they 
get a tremendous draught down their little 
throats, but they gather in a dinner piece-meal 
just as the chimney swift, whip-poor-will and 
night-hawk do. Viscid saliva in the bird’s 
mouth glues the little victims as fast as if they 
were caught on sticky fly-paper; then, when 
