Page:Bird-lore Vol 01.djvu/93

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Home-Life in a Chimney
79

bird was snatching at little dry twigs. She flew round and round, and presently was gone. Suspecting that it was my little friend, I ran quickly upstairs, and sure enough, there sat my bird upon the nest, with a twig in her mouth, panting as if tired by extra exertion. Resting a moment, she proceeded to apply the salivary glue and adjust the twig, and then settled again to the task of sitting.

After a few days there came a cold storm, and it was believed that the little brooder proved unfaithful to her duties, for late one evening and early the following morning she was seen huddled with others of her kind beneath the nest. Great were my fears that no birds would ever come from these chilled eggs, but time made it clear that the tiny creature knew what she was doing. This was the sole act of parental neglect that was apparent during all the weeks required to rear the family. Under date of June 17, I noted that the eggs were constantly protected. At whatever time of day I looked I saw a sitting bird.

June 24 dawned fair and warm. As was my custom. I called to say “ good morning ” into the chimney before going down to breakfast, when I found that there was excitement in the little home. A faint peep reached my ear, which caused the mother anxious restlessness each time it was repeated. From half-past eight until ten o'clock that morning I sat at my post of observation, during which time it appeared that two or three more young were hatched, for there was much peeping on the part of the little ones and much fidgeting about by the adults. Two shells, or parts of shells, were tossed from the nest. Occasionally the parents exchanged places, one brooding the infants while the other went out into the air. Even at the tender age that must be reckoned by minutes, these young birds were fed, seemingly, by regurgitation.

During the progress of my study I found that one of the pair, which from manners and appearance I judged to be the female, had lost a tail feather, and this one I affectionately dubbed “ Swiftie.” She appeared worn out with anxiety added to the confinement of a long period of incubation, and embraced every opportunity to rest, but seasons of sleep were of short duration, for it seemed that the body of the brooding bird was lifted each time a movement was felt beneath. The mate, with his sleek coat, bright eyes and calm demeanor, formed a decided contrast to the ragged, unkempt appearance of the female.

Even four days showed perceptible growth in the swiftlings. They were not allowed to remain uncovered, a wise precaution, for their bodies were perfectly naked. At this age the instinct of cleanliness began to assert itself. The weak, awkward little creatures would