The house-swallow, or chimney-swallow, is undoubtedly the first comer
of all the British _hirundines_; and appears in general on or about
the 13th of April, as I have remarked from many years' observation.
Not but now and then a straggler is seen much earlier: and in
particular, when I was a boy I observed a swallow for a whole day
together on a sunny warm Shrove Tuesday; which day could not fall out
later than the middle of March, and often happened early in February.
It is worth remarking that these birds are seen first about lakes and
mill-ponds; and it is also very particular, that if these early
visitors happen to find frost and snow, as was the case in the two
dreadful springs of 1770 and 1771, they immediately withdraw for a
time. A circumstance this, much more in favor of hiding than
migration; since it is much more probable that a bird should retire to
its hybernaculum just at hand, than return for a week or two to warmer
latitudes.
The swallow, tho called the chimney-swallow, by no means builds
altogether in chimneys, but often within barns and outhouses against
the rafters; and so she did in Virgil's time: "Garrula quam tignis
nidos suspendat hirundo" (the twittering swallow hangs its nest from
the beams).
In Sweden she builds in barns, and is called _Ladu swala_, the
barn-swallow. Besides, in the warmer parts of Europe, there are no
chimneys to houses, except they are English built: in these countries
she constructs her nest in porches, and gateways, and galleries, and
open halls.
Here and there a bird may affect some odd peculiar place; as we have
known a swallow build down a shaft of an old well through which chalk
had been formerly drawn up for the purpose of manure: but in general
with us this _hirundo_ breeds in chimneys, and loves to haunt those
stacks where there is a constant fire--no doubt for the sake of
warmth. Not that it can subsist in the immediate shaft where there is
a fire; but prefers one adjoining to that of the kitchen, and
disregards the perpetual smoke of the funnel, as I have often observed
with some degree of wonder.
Five or six feet more down the chimney does this little bird begin to
form her nest, about the middle of May: which consists, like that of
the house-martin, of a crust or shell composed of dirt or mud, mixt
with short pieces of straw to render it tough and permanent; with this
difference, that whereas the shell of the martin is nearly
hemispheric, that of the swallow is open at the top, and like half a
deep ditch; this nest is lined with fine grasses, and feathers which
are often collected as they float in the air.
Wonderful is the address which this adroit bird shows all day long, in
ascending and descending with security through so narrow a pass. When
hovering over the mouth of the funnel, the vibration of her wings,
acting on the confined air, occasions a rumbling like thunder. It is
not improbable that the dam submits to this inconvenient situation so
low in the shaft, in order to secure her broods from rapacious birds;
and particularly from owls, which frequently fall down chimneys,
perhaps in attempting to get at these nestlings.
The swallow lays from four to six white eggs, dotted with red specks;
and brings out her first brood about the last week in June, or the
first week in July. The progressive method by which the young are
introduced into life is very amusing: first they emerge from the shaft
with difficulty enough, and often fall down into the rooms below; for
a day or so they are fed on the chimney-top, and then are conducted to
the dead leafless bough of some tree, where, sitting in a row, they
are attended with great assiduity, and may then be called perchers. In
a day or two more they become fliers, but are still unable to take
their own food; therefore they play about near the place where the
dams are hawking for flies: and when a mouthful is collected, at a
certain signal given, the dam and the nestling advance, rising toward
each other, and meeting at an angle; the young one all the while
uttering such a little quick note of gratitude and complacency, that a
person must have paid very little regard for the wonders of nature
that has not often remarked this feat.
The dam betakes herself immediately to the business of a second brood
as soon as she is disengaged from her first, which at once associates
with the first broods of house-martins, and with them congregates,
clustering on sunny roofs, towers and trees. This _hirundo_ brings out
her second brood toward the middle and end of August.
All summer long, the swallow is a most instructive pattern of
unwearied industry and affection: for from morning to night, while
there is a family to be supported, she spends the whole day in
skimming close to the ground, and exerting the most sudden turns and
quick evolutions. Avenues, and long walks under the hedges, and
pasture-fields, and mown meadows where cattle graze, are her delight,
especially if there are trees interspersed; because in such spots
insects most abound. When a fly is taken, a smart snap from her bill
is heard, resembling the noise at the shutting of a watch-case; but
the motion of the mandibles is too quick for the eye.
The swallow, probably the male bird, is the _excubitor_ to
house-martins and other little birds; announcing the approach of birds
of prey. For as soon as a hawk appears, with a shrill alarming note he
calls all the swallows and martins about him; who pursue in a body,
and buffet and strike their enemy till they have driven him from the
village; darting down from above on his back, and rising in a
perpendicular line in perfect security. This bird will also sound the
alarm, and strike at cats when they climb on the roofs of houses, or
otherwise approach the nest. Each species of _hirundo_ drinks as it
flies along, sipping the surface of the water; but the swallow alone
in general washes on the wing, by dropping into a pool for many times
together: in very hot weather house-martins and bank-martins also dip
and wash a little.
The swallow is a delicate songster, and in soft sunny weather sings
both perching and flying; on trees in a kind of concert, and on
chimney-tops: it is also a bold flier, ranging to distant downs and
commons even in windy weather, which the other species seems much to
dislike; nay, even frequenting exposed seaport towns, and making
little excursions over the salt water. Horsemen on the wide downs are
often closely attended by a little party of swallows for miles
together, which plays before and behind them, sweeping around and
collecting all the skulking insects that are roused by the trampling
of the horses' feet: when the wind blows hard, without this expedient,
they are often forced to settle to pick up their lurking prey....
A certain swallow built for two years together on the handles of a
pair of garden shears that were stuck up against the boards in an
outhouse, and therefore must have her nest spoiled whenever that
implement was wanted; and what is stranger still, another bird of the
same species built its nest on the wings and body of an owl that
happened by accident to hang dead and dry from the rafter of a barn.
This owl, with the nest on its wings, and with eggs in the nest, was
brought as a curiosity worthy of the most elegant private museum in
Great Britain.