CHAPTER IV.
IN THE AIR AND ON THE TREES.

The Swallow.
(Hirundo rustica.)

The nest of the Swallow is in the shape of half a saucer, quite open, and formed of clay, into which straw and grass are cleverly kneaded. It is built in old huts, in chimneys, also under the eaves of houses, often so low, that it can easily be reached by an outstretched arm. This bird is truly a household companion with us in Hungary. The first clutch of the year consists of five to six eggs, the second which comes at Midsummer, of three or four; they are white, speckled with reddish-brown and grey.

It is a pleasure for man, to observe the daily life of the Swallow. In spring it returns to its old nest, tidies it up, and then its domestic felicity begins. In the early morning light, it may be seen sitting on the roof, on the window-sill, or on a post, cleaning and arranging its plumage; then it wakes the household, with its twittering morning song. Next husband and wife begin their flight. Swift as an arrow, off they go, seizing flying insects and caressing each other on the way. The Chimney Swallow, when on the wing, utters a hasty “Beeweest, beeweest,” especially if it is alarmed. Its cry is a tender “Weet” or “Weeda weet.”

Soon comes the brooding time; then, the young ones slip out of the eggs, and the work of feeding and educating begins. The parents take it in turns to perform these duties, which they do with the greatest industry, and even when the young ones are as big as themselves, and fully fledged, they still place them in a row on some bough, and bring them food. It is beautiful to see with what fidelity this is done. It is a sight to move heart and mind with tenderness, and this is the pet bird of our people, who care for it, and gladly give it shelter and protection; not however, that of the Southerners, who catch and cook Swallows by hundreds of thousands.

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We hear from all parts of the country of the scarcity of Swallows, and various theories have been offered as to the reason of this. In France their numbers have been for years systematically reduced by the snaring and destruction of them, in various ways, for table use. An instance of this I can personally vouch for. A doctor in Nismes, the brother of a friend of my own, who is keen on bird protection, being in the market one day, was pressed by a poulterer to buy Larks. When he refused, the man, thinking the price was too high for him, took him aside and showed him two hampers apparently full of these birds, which are allowed to be sold there, whereas the massacre of Swallows is illegal. On the top was a layer of Larks, underneath were Swallows only. “These I can do cheaper,” he said.

The Midland farmer I alluded to before, Mr. E. Hancock, who writes to me at times, and who has commented on the few Swallows about, sends me a story of a pair nesting in his bedroom. They built over a picture frame, brought out their young successfully, and the youngsters having gone out into the wide world, the two parent birds remained in the home. One roosted regularly on a clock in the bedroom, the other upon the picture frame. It is possible that this pair, or one of them, was hatched out on the picture at Great Bealings House, Suffolk, of which I have written elsewhere. Who can tell? A few days ago they began cleaning, relining and repairing the nest, making all ready for the coming of their second brood.

Lady Farren had little silver rings put on the young of the second brood hatched over the portrait in the bedroom at Great Bealings. A bird, with the ring still on came to breed in that same place two years later.