conflicts, and observed that one of the Blue-birds was possessed of as much
courage as his antagonist, for it was only in consequence of the more
powerful blows of the Martin, that he gave up his house, in which a nest
was nearly finished, and he continued on all occasions to annoy the usurper
as much as lay in his power. The Martin shewed his head at the entrance,
and merely retorted with accents of exultation and insult. I
thought fit to interfere, mounted the tree on the trunk of which the Bluebird's
box was fastened, caught the Martin, and clipped his tail with scissars,
in the hope that such mortifying punishment might prove effectual
in inducing him to remove to his own tenement. No such thing; for no
sooner had I launched him into the air, than he at once rushed back to
the box. I again caught him, and clipped the tip of each wing in such a
manner that he still could fly sufficiently well to procure food, and once
more set him at liberty. The desired effect, however, was not produced,
and as I saw the pertinacious Martin keep the box in spite of all my
wishes that he should give it up, I seized him in anger, and disposed of
him in such a way that he never returned to the neighbourhood.
At the house of a friend of mine in Louisiana, some Martins took possession
of sundry holes in the cornices, and there reared their young for
several years, until the insects winch they introduced to the house induced
the owner to think of a reform. Carpenters were employed to clean
the place, and close up the apertures by which the birds entered the cornice.
This was soon done. The Martins seemed in despair ; they brought
twigs and other materials, and began to form nests A v h e r e v e r a hole
could be found in any part of the building; but were so chased off that
after repeated attempts, the season being in the mean time advanced, they
were forced away, and betook themselves to some Woodpeckers1 holes on
the dead trees about the plantation. The next spring, a house was built
for them. The erection of such houses is a general practice, the Purple
Martin being considered as a privileged pilgrim, and the harbinger of
spring.
The note of the Martin is not melodious, but is nevertheless very
pleasing. The twitterings of the male while courting the female are more
interesting. Its notes are among the first that are heard in the morning,
and are welcome to the sense of every body. The industrious farmer
rises from his bed as he hears them. They are soon after mingled with
those of many other birds, and the husbandman, certain of a fine day,
renews his peaceful labours with an elated heart. The still more independent
Indian is also fond of the Martin's company. He frequently
hangs up a calabash on some twig near his camp, and in this cradle the
bird keeps watch, and sallies forth to drive off the vulture that might
otherwise commit depredations on the deer-skins or pieces of venison exposed
to the air to be dried. The humbled slave of the Southern States
takes more pains to accommodate this favourite bird. The calabash is
neatly scooped out, and attached to the flexible top of a cane, brought
from the swamp, where that plant usually grows, and placed close to his
hut. It is, alas! to him a mere memento of the freedom which he once
enjoyed; and, at the sound of the horn which calls him to his labour, as
he bids farewell to the Martin, he cannot help thinking how happy he
should be, were he permitted to gambol and enjoy himself day after day,
with as much liberty as that bird. Almost every country tavern has a
Martin box on the upper part of its sign-board; and I have observed that
the handsomer the box, the better does the inn generally prove to be.
All our cities are furnished with houses for the reception of these
birds ; and it is seldom that even lads bent upon mischief disturb the favoured
Martin. He sweeps along the streets, here and there seizing a
fly, hangs to the eaves of the houses, or peeps into them, as he poises himself
in the air in front of the windows, or mounts high above the city,
soaring into the clear sky, plays with the string of the child's kite, snapping
at it, as he swiftly passes, with unerring precision, or suddenly
sweeps along the roofs, chasing off* grimalkin, who is probably prowling
in quest of his young.
In the Middle States, the nest of the Martin is built, or that of the
preceding year repaired and augmented, eight or ten days after its arrival,
or about the 20th of April. It is composed of dry sticks, willowtwigs,
grasses, leaves, green and dry, feathers, and whatever rags he meets
with. The eggs, which are pure white, are from four to six. Many
pairs resort to the same box to breed, and the little fraternity appear to
live in perfect harmony. They rear two broods in a season. The first
comes forth in the end of May, the second about the middle of July. In
Louisiana, they sometimes have three broods. The male takes part of
the labour of incubation, and is extremely attentive to his mate. He is
seen twittering on the box, and frequently flying past the hole. His notes
are at this time emphatical and prolonged, low and less musical than even
his common pews. Their food consists entirely of insects, among which
are large beetles. They seldom seize the honey-bee.