2 THE AUDUBON) BU Lines 
on the maxim. This has been going on for seven long years, and through 
these years Ed has played the role of nursemaid, cleaning away the mess 
that they make in his milking parlor each day and night. 
During these seven years they have lost but one of their young; then 
one of the numerous cats made away with the luckless victim. But the 
cats, too, have a certain respect for these birds that come and go among 
the cows and people without any fear whatsoever. If Tabby happens to be 
eyeing the nest too intently you will hear a trrrrr, then a blue living flash 
darts downward, turns abruptly upward, and repeats the performance again 
and again until the feline attacker retreats under the manger. Back among 
the stock will not suffice, for these blue darts have no fear of them and will 
dart in and even under them in their persistent pursuit of Tabby. When 
danger is all past you can see the parent birds sitting on the electric wires 
that run to the barn, sitting there restful and contented, uttering a peaceful 
wick wick or twick twick. 
I followed their life from time to time throughout the summer. After 
the first brood were able to shift for themselves you could see them darting 
in and about the buildings or out over the fields, then away to the nearby 
creek, but always they came to rest on the wires that their parents had 
used during their infancy. During the summer the parents raised two 
broods, and in the early fall evenings you could count fourteen swallows 
sitting in contentment on the safety of the light wires. 
Come next spring there will be only two return. It has been thus for 
the seven past seasons, but they will go straight to the nest and prepare it 
for restarting the cycle. During the seven seasons this cycle has varied 
little; I believe that Ed told that one time they raised three broods, but 
usually it’s just the two, and always there have been six little ones hatched. 
Ed doesn’t know just how much longer that the nest will adhere to its 
rafter, but he hopes it stays as long as he remains on earth, for there is 
something about the contentedness, the regularity of habit, the trusting 
friendliness of these creatures that has endeared them to his own family 
life; without them there would be an emptiness in the barn at milking time. 
te i ff 
From Rocky Gorge to Canyon Streets 
By ISABEL B. WASSON 
A DARK gray bird suddenly shoots out from the high wall and flies swiftly 
over the roof tops. His sharp-pointed wings beat rapidly as he zigzags back 
and forth. His shrill call, like a policeman’s whistle, brings bird students 
on the 23rd floor to the window. The duck hawk, wildest and swiftest of 
our falcons, has moved into Chicago’s loop. The canyon streets and sky- 
scrapers with jutting cornices remind him of rocky ledges in the mountains. 
All at once he hovers high above the narrow street and drops onto a 
flock of pigeons sending them whirling around the corner. In another 
moment he zooms up to the matching walls of the buildings where he dis- 
appears. With careful hunting you may find him sitting quietly on a 
