200 
CHORDEILES POPETUE. 
I have mentioned under descriptions that the Night Hawks deposited their eggs on 
the flat roofs of houses in cities. Several species of our native birds have taken advantage 
of the changes wrought by the settlement of the section in which they live; thus, instead of 
being driven away, when their former breeding places were encroached upon and, in many 
instances, destroyed, they have promptly availed themselves of the opportunities afforded 
by the many structures erected by man and built their nests in them. This is especially 
noticeable among the Swallows, for all, but one, of our Eastern species have greatly modi¬ 
fied their habits, and the breeding range of all has become extended since the occupation of 
the country by the whites. The Wrens have generally abandoned holes in rocks and trees 
and now resort to buildings, at least in the vicinity of settlements. The Chimney Swift 
may be mentioned as another species whose habits have been utterly changed by the inno¬ 
vations of man, and the same is true of the Phoebe, though to a limited extent. But in the 
cases mentioned and in all others which occur, one or two species excepted, the birds 
which have taken up their abodes in the immediate presence of man, are small, consequent¬ 
ly are seldom, if ever, molested, and so, from the first, they readily became familiar with 
the ways of civilization. With the Night Hawks, however, this is quite different, they 
were most emphatically a bird of the wilderness and although they resort to newly made 
clearings and open fields, these are almost always remote from houses, and when disturbed 
once or twice in any locality, the birds promptly take their departure. Thus, it is almost 
impossible to find the nest of one of these birds near any of the towns in the immediate 
vicinity of Boston yet, most unexpectedly, we find them common in the midst of the metrop¬ 
olis, itself. 
It is true that the gravel-covered roofs do, in a measure, resemble the barren spots of 
land of which they are so fond, but if the birds ever chanced to mistake the extended 
rows of house-tops for the quiet, hill-side fields in which they were wont to nest, one 
would think that the sights, odors, and,, above all, the constant din arising from the midst of a 
great city Avould speedily dispel all such illusions. Yet it did not, for some years ago, the 
first pair of Night Hawks ventured to lay their eggs on a roof in Boston and now they are 
common there through the summer. Both sexes are found there during the day and in the 
twilight, the peculiar, sharp, rapidly given cry may be heard above the noise caused by 
the surrounding multitude, and then they will be seen to plunge downward toward the 
crowded streets, but their booming note, if heard at all, comes faintly to the ear, being 
almost, if not quite, lost in the constant waves of louder sounds. Master Outran Bangs 
who has taken the eggs from roofs, informs me that the females were quite tame when ap¬ 
proached, flying only a few feet and showing no solicitude, whatever, when their eggs were 
removed. 
I have alluded to the notes of the male for, excepting the peculiar croak, the females 
are silent. The singular cry which consists of but one sharp note repeated at intervals, is 
usually given while the birds are on the wing, but on several occasions I have heard it 
when they were perched on the limbs of high trees. This rude attempt at melody is only 
made through the breeding season and more often in the twilight or during cloudy days, 
seldom in the bright sunlight. The bird mounts upward with that peculiar, eccentric 
