The chimney swift comes a week or ten days later than the martin, and seldom begins to build before the 10th of June. It raises one brood of four to six young, usually in some unused chimney. It remains with us longer than the martin, even until the cool nights of the last of September remind it that "the summer is over and gone." The flight of this bird is employed as a weather sign by country people. When it soars high, they say fair weather will continue, but when it flies low, then rain is near at hand.
The whippoorwill arrives, commonly, the last of March, but often not before the 10th or 15th of April. The chuckwills-widow comes three weeks later. Both of these strange birds rear one brood of two young. The nest is placed upon the bare ground, under a clump of low bushes, or a dense holly, or other low-growing tree. The eggs have the same markings as those of the bull bat, or night hawk, another very interesting migratory bird.
The catbird and the wood sparrows do not reach us till near the end of April, and often May is far advanced before these birds are noticed. The last is one of the sweetest songsters of our groves in summer, rivaling any bird of our clime. It seeks the coolest and darkest wood, where it pours forth its notes hour after hour, being one of the earliest to begin its mating lays.
The humming bird is the latest visitor to come to us in summer. This diminutive aerial voyager is one of the most charming of the migratory tribe, and worthy all the admiration that has been lavished upon it. It loves to sport in the flower gardens, where it sips the nectar from the honeycups of Flora's train. Only one species comes to us, the well-known ruby-throat.
But the young reader interested in these things should begin observation, and make a list for himself of all the migratory birds in his locality. A good form for such a record may be found in Howitt's "Book of the Seasons," an English work, but one from which a great deal about nature can be learned.
We will close our too brief sketch with the inquiry of Mrs. Kimball, of Connecticut:
"O, wise little birds, how do ye know
The way to go,
Southward and northward, to and fro?
Far up in ether piped they,