ney wall, by means of its saliva, arranging them in a semicircular form,
crossing and interweaving them, so as to extend the framework outwards.
The whole is afterwards glued together with saliva, which is spread around
it for an inch or more, to fasten it securely. When the nest is in a chimney,
it is generally placed on the east side, and is from five to eight feet
from the entrance; but in the hollow of a tree, where only they breed in
communities, it is placed high or low according to convenience. The
fabric, which is very frail, now and then gives way, either under the
pressure of the parents and young, or during sudden bursts of heavy
rain, when the whole is dashed to the ground. The eggs are from four
to six, and of a pure white colour. Two broods are raised in the season.
The flight of this species is performed somewhat in the manner of the
European Swift, but in a more hurried although continued style, and generally
by repeated flappings, unless when courtship is going on, on which
occasion it is frequently seen sailing with its wings fixed as it were, both
sexes as they glide through the air issuing a shrill rattling twitter, and
the female receiving the caresses of the male. At other times it is seen
ranging far and wide at a considerable elevation over the forests and cities;
again, in wet weather, it flies close over the ground; and anon it skims
the water, to drink and bathe. When about to descend into a hollow
tree or a chimney, its flight, always rapid, is suddenly interrupted as if
by magic, for down it goes in an instant, whirling in a peculiar manner,
and whirring with its wings, so as to produce a sound in the chimney
like the rumbling of very distant thunder. They never alight on trees
or on the ground. If one is caught and placed on the latter, it can only
move in a very awkward fashion. I believe that the old birds sometimes
fly at night, and have reason to think that the young are fed at such times,
as I have heard the whirring sound of the former, and the acknowledging
cries of the latter, during calm and clear nights.
When the young accidentally fall, which sometimes happens, although
the nest should remain, they scramble up again, by means of their sharp
claws, lifting one foot after another, in the manner of young Wood Ducks,
and supporting themselves with their tail. Some days before the young
are able to fly, they scramble up the walls to near the mouth of the chimney,
where they are fed. Any observer may discover this, as he sees the
parents passing close over them, without entering the funnel. The same
occurrence takes place when they are bred in a tree.
In the cities, these birds make choice of a particular chimney for their
CHIMNEY SWALLOW. 331
roosting place, where, early in spring, before they have begun building,
both sexes resort in multitudes, from an hour or more before sunset, until
long after dark. Before entering the aperture, they fly round and over
it many times, but finally go in one at a time, until hurried by the lateness
of the hour, several drop in together. They cling to the wall with
their claws, supporting themselves also by their sharp tail, until the dawn,
when, with a roaring sound, the whole pass out almost at once. Whilst
at St Francisville in Louisiana, I took the trouble of counting how many
entered one chimney before dark. I sat at a window not far from the
spot, and reckoned upwards of a thousand, having missed a considerable
number. The place at that time contained about a hundred houses, and
no doubt existed in my mind that the greater number of these birds were
on then* way southward, and had merely stopped there for the night.
Immediately after my arrival at Louisville, in the State of Kentucky,
I became acquainted with the hospitable and amiable Major WILLIAM
CROGHAN and his family. While talking one day about birds, he asked
me if I had seen the trees in which the Swallows were supposed to spend
the winter, but which they only entered, he said, for the purpose of roosting.
Answering in the affirmative, I was informed that on my way back
to town, there was a tree remarkable on account of the immense numbers
that resorted to it, and the place in which it stood was described to me. I
found it to be a sycamore, nearly destitute of branches, sixty or seventy feet
high, between seven and eight feet in diameter at the base, and about five
for the distance of forty feet up, where the stump of a broken hollowed
branch, about two feet in diameter, made out from the main stem. This was
the place at which the Swallows entered. On closely examining the tree, I
found it hard, but hollow to near the roots. It was now about four
o'clock after noon, in the month of July. Swallows were flying over
Jeffersonville, Louisville, and the woods around, but there were none near
the tree. I proceeded home, and shortly after returned on foot. The sun
was going down behind the Silver Hills; the evening was beautiful;
thousands of Swallows were flying closely above me, and three or four at
a time were pitching into the hole, like bees hurrying into their hive. I
remained, my head leaning on the tree, listening to the roaring noise made
within by the birds as they settled and arranged themselves, until it was
quite dark, when I left the place, although I was convinced that many
more had to enter. I did not pretend to count them, for the number was
too great, and the birds rushed to the entrance so thick as to baffle the