know of one old deserted barn where last year five of the birds lived
very peaceably; though what they were doing there in the daytime I
could never quite make out. At almost any hour of the day, if one
approached very cautiously and thumped the side of the barn, some of
the birds would dash out in great alarm, never stopping to look behind
them. At first there were but three entrances; but after I had
surprised them a few times, two more were added; whether to get out
more quickly when all were inside, or simply for the sake of drilling
the holes, I do not know. Sometimes a pair of birds will have five or
six holes drilled, generally on the same side of the building.

Two things about my family in the old barn aroused my curiosity--what
they were doing there by day, and how they got out so quickly when
alarmed. The only way it seemed possible for them to dash out on the
instant, as they did, was to fly straight through. But the holes were
too small, and no bird but a bank-swallow would have attempted such a
thing.

One day I drove the birds out, then crawled in under a sill on the
opposite side, and hid in a corner of the loft without disturbing
anything inside. It was a long wait in the stuffy old place before one
of the birds came back. I heard him light first on the roof; then his
little head appeared at one of the holes as he sat just below, against
the side of the barn, looking and listening before coming in. Quite
satisfied after a minute or two that nobody was inside, he scrambled
in and flew down to a corner in which was a lot of old hay and
rubbish. Here he began a great rustle and stirring about, like a
squirrel in autumn leaves, probably after insects, though it was too
dark to see just what he was doing. It sounded part of the time as if
he were scratching aside the hay, much as a hen would have done. If