Homes of the Cliff Swallows
My opportunity to study the ways of the cliff swallow (Petrochelidon lunifrons) has been very limited. My young friend Tom wrote me the birds were at work, a colony being busy building their odd-shaped nests on the rafters of a cow barn. When I visited the place I found the nests were built quite close to each other. How the birds did scold when we approached, darting around and around at first, but, gradually quieting down, they disappeared! In the meantime we were trying to get a snap-shot of a bird entering the neck of the nest. The nests were constructed of small pellets of mud, and were gourd-shaped, lined with grass and feathers. There they laid their four or five white speckled eggs. I understood this was the second year in succession they had built in this barn, but the following year they selected a barn some distance away. How conspicuous the rufous rump appeared when they entered the nest! They never remained long, but were off again, always on the wing. They entered the frail structures like fairies, touching the opening lightly, entering easily, then reappearing, to be off again on the wing. Sometimes they stopped for a moment at the mouth, clogging the entrance entirely with the body. As some writer has said, the bird is known by its “crescent-shaped frontlet shining like a moon,” hence its specific Latin name “lunifrons,”—moon-brow. One need not draw far on his imagination to think that the moon on her brow dispenses light for the mother bird to see the little mouths as she feeds her young in the “darksome cave.”
Nest of the Song Sparrow
The song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) is among the first to return to its summer home. What a cheerful, fascinating little fellow he is as he perches on the fence post, or “any old place,” pouring forth his lightsome, varied songs! Clothed in his somber brown suit, he is instantly recognized by the dark throat patch. There is no regularity in what they do, or how, where, or when they do it. They build nests on the ground and in bushes, bulky or sparse, lined with horse hairs or otherwise, and lay eggs irregularly speckled. They begin to build their nests about the time the trillium is peeping through the ground, and the brood are ready to leave their home when the trillium is in full blossom. How delighted the children are when, if perchance out gathering flowers, they see the hasty flight of the mother bird as she quits her carefully concealed nest, and parting the leaves, there they find a family of fledglings, mouths wide open, waiting for the return of the mother with food to satisfy their wants! One day I found a song sparrow’s nest in a small catalpa tree. On closer examination I noticed a young bird hanging by the neck, dead. I have no doubt that when the bird was ready to leave the nest it became entangled in the horse hair, for a loop was found around its neck, and when the little youngster, in its endeavors to release itself, tumbled overboard, it was strangled to death.
A Tragedy in Nature