Dooryard Stories

by Clara Dillingham Pierson

  A YOUNG SWIFT TUMBLES

  In one of the chimneys of the big house several families of ChimneySwifts had built their homes. They had come north in April and flownstraight to this particular place. It was the family home of thisbranch of the Swifts, and every year since great-grandfather Swiftdiscovered it, some of his children and grandchildren had come backthere to build. They were quite airy, and thought a great deal aboutappearances. "Swifts are sure to be judged by the chimney in whichthey live," they said, "and there is no use in choosing a poor onewhen there are good ones to be found."

  Nobody would have dared remind these Chimney Swifts that theirgreat-great-great-great-grandparents lived in hollow trees, ifindeed any of their friends knew it. They themselves never spoke ofthe Swifts who still do so, and since they had always lived in a landof chimneys, they did not dream of the times when there were none tobe found. Of course, before the white men came to this country Swiftshad to build in hollow trees.

  THE CHIMNEY-SWIFT'S HOME. _Page 78_]

  You can just imagine what a happy, busy place this chimney was in thespringtime, when last year's nests were being torn down and new oneswere building. The older Swifts were there and those who were to keephouse for the first time. Then, of course, the younger ones hadmarried and brought new wives there, and they had to be introduced andshown all over the chimney.

  Some wanted to build nearer the top than others, and the older oneswere always advising the younger ones. It was so hard for a Swiftmother to remember that her married son was old enough to decidethings for himself; and many such mothers fluttered around the sons'nests, telling them how to place each twig, and giving the new wivesadvice as to how to bring up the babies who would soon come to livewith them.

  This story is about a young couple who built the lowest nest of all.They were dressed just alike in sleek, sooty, brown feathers, whichwere of a lighter shade on their throats. Their necks and heads werevery broad, their bills short but able to open very wide; their wingswere longer than their tails, and the quills of their tail feathersstuck out stiff and bare far beyond the soft, feathery part. TheSwifts are all very proud of these bare quills. "There are not manybirds," they say, "who can show their quills in that fashion."

  These quills are very useful, too, for after a Swift has broken off atiny twig for his nest, he has to cling to the side of the chimney andfix it into place, and he could not do this without supporting himselfby these tail quills. It is hard work building nests, and you can seethat it would be. They have to cling with both feet, supportthemselves with their tails, put each tiny twig in place with theirbills, and glue it there with sticky saliva from their mouths or elsewith tree-gum.

  The young husband who was building his first home low down in thechimney was a sturdy and rather wilful fellow, who was very sure whathe wanted, and just as sure that he was going to get it. When he said,"I shall do this," or, "I am going to have that," other people hadlearned to keep still. They sometimes had a smiling look around thebill, but they said nothing. His wife was a sweet and sensible Swiftwho never made a fuss about anything, or bragged of what she meant todo. Still, other Swifts who watched them said that she had her wayquite as often as he had his.

  It was really she who had chosen to build well down in the chimney.Her husband had preferred to be near the top, and she had agreed tothat, but spoke of what would happen if one of their children shouldfall out of the nest.

  "There is no need of one falling out," said Mr. Swift. "Tell them tolie still and not push around. Then they will not fall out."

  Mrs. Swift fixed one of the feathers on the under side of her leftwing, and then remarked: "And you do not think it would disturb you tohave our neighbors passing all the time."

  "Yes, I do," he replied. "I have thought so from the first, and I amthinking that it might be well to build lower for that reason. Then wecould be passing the others instead."

  He flew down and pecked at the bricks in a few places to make surethat he could fasten a nest securely. Then he came back to his wife."I have decided to build the lowest nest of all," said he, "but youunderstand it is not on account of the children. There is no sense intheir moving around in the nest."

  "I understand," said Mrs. Swift, and he flew away for twigs while shestayed behind to visit with her mother-in-law.

  The mother-in-law's eyes twinkled. "I believe my son said that hischildren were not to move around in the nest," she said with a laugh."I wonder how he is going to stop their doing so."

  "Tell them, I suppose," answered young Mrs. Swift, smilingly. "Did hepush around at all when he was a baby?"

  "He?" replied the older Swift. "He was the most restless child I everhatched. He will know more about bringing up children after he hasraised a brood or two. Don't worry, my dear. It will come out allright." She flew off and the young wife went for twigs also, andthought how happy she ought to be in having such a mother-in-law.

  When the lowest nest was built and the four long pure white eggs werelaid in it, Mr. and Mrs. Swift were a very proud young couple. Thenest was so thin that one could see the eggs through it quite plainly,but it was exceedingly stout and firm. It was not a soft nest, and ithad no real lining, although Mrs. Swift had laid in one especiallyperfect grass blade "to give it style."

  That grass blade may be seen to this day by any one who cares to lookat the nest as it lies in a cabinet in the house. It was the only nestin the chimney which had anything but twigs in it, and some peoplewondered at Mrs. Swift's taste. One stout elderly mother Swift said"she supposed it was all right, but that she had never done such athing and her children had turned out all right." However, young Mrs.Swift smiled in her pretty way and did not talk back.

  When they were planning for the four children whom they expected, Mrs.Swift spoke of how patient they would have to be with them, but Mr.Swift said: "They must be brought up to mind! If I tell a child onceto do a thing, that is enough. You will see how I bring them up." Thenhe ruffled up his feathers, puffed out his throat, and looked veryimportant.

  They did most of their visiting in the beautiful night-time, for it isa custom among their people to fly and hunt and visit in the dark, andrest by day. Their busiest time is always just before the sun comesup, and so it happened that the Little Boy who slept in the room belowdid not often hear the rumbling noise in the chimney as they flew inand out. When they were awakened he slept quietly in his snug littlebed, and as he was awakening, and stretching, and getting his dimplesready for the day, the Swifts were going to sleep after a busy night.

  When the baby Swifts broke their shells and were seen for the firsttime by their loving father and mother, Mr. Swift was surprised tofind how small they were. Mrs. Swift murmured sweet words to them andworked as hard as her husband to find them food. There were now somany mouths to be fed that they flew by day as well as by night, andoften the Little Boy in the room below thought he heard distantthunder when it was only the Swifts coming down the chimney with foodfor their babies. All sorts of tiny winged creatures were brought themto eat, for Swifts catch all their food as they fly, and that meansthat they can feed upon only such creatures as also fly.

  When they were stretching up to reach the food, Mrs. Swift would sayto the children: "Now learn to move carefully, for if you should getover the edge of the nest you will tumble down into that fireplace ofwhich I have told you."

  When he was feeding them Mr. Swift would say: "You may open yourbills, but not one of you must move beyond that twig. Do youunderstand?"

  Three of them obeyed without asking questions, but the eldest brotherwas always trying to see just how far he could go without tumbling,and he would talk back to his father.

  "You don't care if I put one wing out, do you?" he would ask.

  "Not one wing!" his father would answer.

  "Why?" the son would ask. "I wouldn't tumble just because I put onewing out."

  "It is not minding me," his father would say, "to see how far you cango without tumbling. I did not tell you only to keep
from fallingout. I told you to keep inside that twig."

  Then the son would pout his bill and act very sulky, getting close tothe twig which he had been told not to pass. When he thought hisfather was not looking, he would even wriggle a little beyond it. Mrs.Swift was worried, but what could she do? She noticed that her husbanddid not talk so much as he used to about making a child mind the veryfirst time he is spoken to.

  One night when the Swifts had fed their children faithfully, this sonwas unusually naughty. It may be that he had eaten more than his shareor that he had picked for the biggest insect every time that lunch wasbrought. It may be, too, that he was naughty simply because he wantedto be. It does not always mean that a child is ill when he is naughty.His father had just told him to be more careful, and he made a face(yes, he did) and flopped aside to show what he could do withoutfalling.

  Then he felt a tiny twig on the edge of the nest break beneath him,and he went tumbling, bumping, and scraping down into the fireplacebelow. He could not fly up, for his wings were not strong enough tocarry him up such a narrow space, and his parents could not get him.He heard his brother and sisters crying and his mother saying that shehad always expected that to happen.

  "Horrid old twig!" he said. "Don't see why it had to break! Shouldthink they might build their nest stronger. I don't care! I was sickof being told not to wriggle, anyway!"

  Then he fluttered and sprawled through a crack beside the screen ofthe grate until he was out in the room. The Little Boy lay asleep inthe bed, and that frightened the young Swift. When they tried toscare each other the children had always pretended that a Boy wasafter them. He crawled behind a picture which leaned against the wall,and stayed there and thought about his dear, dear home up in thechimney.

  The Little Boy stirred and awakened and called out: "Mother! Mother!There is somefing making a scratching noise in my room. I fink it is aBear."

  The young Swift sat very still while the Lady came in and hunted forthe Bear. She never came near his hiding-place, and laughed at theLittle Boy for thinking of Bears. She told him that the only Bearsaround their town were two-legged ones, and when he asked her whatthat meant she laughed again.

  He peeped out from behind the picture and saw the Little Boy dresshimself. He heard him say: "I can't poss'bly get vese shoes on, butI'll try and try and try." He thought how much pleasanter it was tobe a Swift and have all his clothes grow on, and to go barefoot allthe year.

  He heard the Lady say: "Why, you precious Boy! You did get your shoeson, after all." Then he saw them go off to breakfast, racing to seewho would beat.

  After they were gone, he fluttered out to the window, and there theLady found him, and the Little Boy danced around and wanted to touchhim, but didn't quite dare. The Lady said: "I think this must havebeen your Bear," and the Little Boy said: "My teeny-weeny little bittyBear wiv feavers on." He heard the Little Boy ask, too, why the birdhad so many pins sticking out of his tail, and this made him cross. Hedid not understand what pins were, but he felt that anybody ought toknow about tail-quills.

  He didn't know much about Boys, for this was the first one he hadever seen, and he wondered what those shiny white things were in hismouth. He had never seen teeth and he could not understand. Hewondered how the Boy got along without a bill, and pitied him verymuch. This Little Boy did not seem so very terrible. He even acted abit afraid of the Swift.

  Next the young Swift felt himself lifted gently in the Lady's hand andlaid in a box with soft white stuff in it and two small holes cut inthe cover. He was carried from room to room in the house and shown toother people. Once he heard a queer voice say, "Meouw!" and then theLittle Boy stamped his foot and said: "Go way, Teddy Silvertip. Youcan't have my little bird, you hungry Cat."

  After this the young Swift was more scared than before, and would havegiven every feather he had to be safely back in the nest in thechimney. He was hungry, too, and he wanted to see his father and hisdear mother. He beat his wings against the sides of the box and criedfor his mother. "Oh," he said, "if I were only back in the nest Iwouldn't move. I wouldn't move a bit." Then the Cat mewed again and hekept still from fright.

  At last he was taken into the open air and placed in the top of ashort evergreen, where the Cat could not reach him. Here he clung,weak and lonely and scared, blinking his half-blinded eyes in a lightbrighter than he had yet seen. All the rest of that day he stayedthere, while his father and mother and their other children weresleeping in the home nest. He expected never to see them again, but hedid want to tell them how sorry he was.

  After the sun had set and the moon was shining, he saw his fatherdarting to and fro above him. "Father!" he cried. "Father, I am sosorry that I moved past the twig. I was very naughty."

  His father heard and flew down to tuck a fat and juicy May Beetle intohis mouth. "You poor child!" said he. "Eat that and don't try to talk.You will not do such things when you are older. I will get you somemore food."

  When he returned Mrs. Swift was with him, and they petted and fed theyoung Swift all night, never scolding him at all, because, as theysaid, he had been punished quite enough and was sorry. And that wastrue. His grandmother came also with a bit of food. She told him thatthey would feed him every night and that he should hide in thebranches each day until his feathers were grown.

  "In three days more," said she, "you will be ready to fly, and youlook more like your father all the time. In three days more," shesaid, "if nobody eats you up."

  You can imagine how anxious the young Swift was during those threedays, and how small he tried to be when Silvertip was around."Surely," he thought, "the sun and moon were never before so slow inmarking off the time."

  When at last he was ready for flight, Silvertip was under the snowballbush near by. The young Swift sprang into the air. "Good-by, my Catfriend," said he. "You look hungry, but you have lost your best chanceat me. You should have been waiting at the grate for me. You mighthave known that such a foolish young Swift as I would tumble downsooner or later. All that saves some people is not having theirfoolishness found out!"