A BIRD-STORY.
[TO TH1 EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR:I
Sin,—For nearly forty years one wing of my old house in Hertfordshire has been the nesting-place of numerous families of starlings, sparrows, and swifts. The eave selected fronts the old garden, affords perfect shelter for the nests, and is secure from all attacks from without. Year after year we have watched the sparrows and starlings in the early spring preparing their nests ; and later on, the twitter- lugs of the young birds have informed us that the little homes were fully inhabited. Then followed the parents' patient search for food on the lawn, and the eager little rushes of the starlings in pursuit of some particularly delicate morsel have excited our mirth, by reminding us of certain acquaintances to whom they bear an extraordinary resemblance. All goes well with the nests until about the second week in May, when a few early swifts appear circling round. The starlings and sparrows then carefully post sentries in the shadow of the eave, and watch unceasingly. Suddenly the sound of wings and the joyous scream of many voices announce that "our swifts" have come, and from that moment the battle for possession of the eave commences, and frequently continues for more than a fortnight. The swifts charging with shrieks down and round the garden, almost brushing the eave with their wide wings, and the starling sentries dashing out to meet them, disappearing in pursuit, while the sparrows endeavour to make it " hot " for any straggler that may approach. This year the usual peace reigned about the eave until May 15th, when our beautiful swifts returned strong and vigorous and war was declared. As usual the starlings and sparrows fought for their hearths and altars with varying success until the 29th, when the starlings drew off with their broods, leaving the field to the swifts, who now in possession tolerate two nests of sparrows still unfledged. But this year the fight has been more bitter than usual, and on Sunday, May 23rd, I found a little fluffy starling dead on the lawn 30 ft. away from the eave, then, later on, another, then two very young sparrows, and I begin to fear that the swifts, growing impatient, drew from the nests these poor late birds, unwilling little martyrs to the homing instincts of their powerful neighbours. The black- birds, thrushes, and other birds do not seem to notice the long-continued fight each year. It is interesting that for all these years the same battle has waged with always the same result ; and the triumphant screams of the swifts continue all through the summer (especially in the evenings, when they swirl close overhead) till the autumn, when, without a word of farewell, they and their new families depart to their Southern home.
Doubtless there are many similar records of migrant birds
to one special neighbourhood or house, but in our case this return has been so constantly followed by the same three- cornered fight for the coveted possessions, that I venture to offer our experience to your readers. I shall be interested to learn if swifts have been observed to act as we regret having to suspect them of doing here now, for the first time.—I am, Sir,
G. M. T.
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