Chief Pokagon, of the Pottawattamie Indians, in an article in _The
Osprey_, writes delightfully of the Chimney Swift, and we quote a
portion of it describing a peculiar habit of the bird. The chief was
a youth when he made the observation, and he writes in the second
person:
"As you look, you see the head of the young chief is turning slowly
around, watching something high in air above the stream; you now begin
to look in the same direction, catching glimpses every now and then,
of the segment of a wild revolving ring of small unnumbered birds
circling high above the trees. Their twittering notes and whizzing
wings create a musical, but wild, continued roar. You now begin to
realize he is determined to understand all about the feathered bees,
as large as little birds, the village boy had seen. The circle
continues to decrease in size, but increases the revolution until
all the living, breathing ring swings over the stream in the field
of your vision, and you begin to enquire what means all this mighty
ingathering of such multitude of birds. The young chief in admiration
claps his hands, leaping towards the stream. The twittering, whizzing
roar continues to increase; the revolving circle fast assumes a funnel
shape, moving downward until the point reaches the hollow in the stub,
pouring its living mass therein until the last bird dropped out of
sight. Rejoicing in wonder and admiration, the youth walks round the
base of the stub, listening to the rumbling roar of fluttering wings
within. Night comes on, he wraps his blanket closer about him, and
lies down to rest until the coming day, that he may witness the
swarming multitudes pass out in early morning. But not until the hour
of midnight does he fall asleep, nor does he wake until the dawn of
day, when, rising to his feet, he looks upward to the skies. One by
one the stars disappear. The moon grows pale. He listens. Last night's
familiar roar rings in his ears. He now beholds swarming from out the
stub the living, breathing mass, forming in funnel shape, revolving
like a top, rising high in air, then sweeping outward into a wide
expanding ring, until the myriads of birds are scattered wide, like
leaves before the whirlwind."
And then what do they do? Open the mouth of a swallow that has been
flying, and turn out the mass of small flies and other insects that
have been collected there. The number packed into its mouth is almost
incredible, for when relieved from the constant pressure to which it
is subjected, the black heap begins to swell and enlarge, until it
attains nearly double its former size.
Chimney Swallow is the name usually applied to this Swift. The habit
of frequenting chimneys is a recent one, and the substitution of this
modern artificial home for hollow trees illustrates the readiness with
which it adapts itself to a change in surroundings. In perching, they
cling to the side of the chimney, using the spine-pointed tails for a
support. They are most active early in the morning and late in the
afternoon, when one may hear their rolling twitter as they course
about overhead.
The question whether Chimney Swifts break off twigs for their nests
with their feet is now being discussed by ornithologists. Many curious
and interesting observations have been made, and the momentous
question will no doubt in time be placed beyond peradventure.