sparrows flew at him and kept him from getting a foothold on the house. Sometimes he managed to perch on the roof and there wait for a chance to get inside. But the sparrows were too many for him. Now and then he gave a sad note, as if he were discouraged and calling for help. Then again it seemed as if something had encouraged him, and he sang out clearly something like this:
"Whew whew whew
tr-r-r-r
cho cho cho cho."
After holding out against the sparrows for three days, he went away. About a week later I heard a sweet and happy twitter. Several martins were flying around the house. I had named it The Martins' Aircastle. By this time the English sparrows had begun nesting in some of the rooms.
The martins perched on the wires in front of the house and made a saucy chatter, calling the sparrows all sorts of names, I suppose. The sparrows jabbered back at them. In about an hour the martins left.
Early the next morning another flock of martins came. Some perched on the wires, some on the roof, and some on the porches of the martin house. Others flew around in big circles. All were twittering and calling in their happiest manner.
I had driven the sparrows away the night before, and this is how I did it: I put a few big nails into
