Chapter IX: The Martins’ Aircastle

The purple martins like a house with many rooms, so they can live together in a large company. Since the martins belong to the swallow family, to call them purple swallows would, it seems to me, be more informing.

My friend who had sent me the wren apartment house was so pleased with its success that he sent me also a martin house. It is four stories high and has twenty-six rooms. Around each story are porches, some of them several inches wide.

It pleases birds to have their houses look, before they occupy them, as if they had been out in all sorts of weather. So, for several weeks before this martin house was set up, it lay out in the yard to be rained and snowed on.

One cold March day a purple bird came in at my window. He perched on picture frames, twittered a little, and went out again. According to the bird books, my little visitor was a purple martin. Maybe he had seen the martin house on the lawn, and came to ask me to put it up. Anyway, the next day it was mounted in the farthest corner of the garden. For, according to the directions that came with the house, martins want their houses to be fifty feet away from any building or tree, and on a pole at least sixteen feet high.

In early April another martin came; or maybe it was the same one, returning to see whether the house had been put up. Martins always send one of their number ahead to look up a house for them. He is called a scout. This martin scout perched on the wires nearby, and tried repeatedly to alight on one of the porches of the martin house. But some English sparrows were there; they also wanted that house. Every time the scout went near, these 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 a tin can, then closed the can and tied it to a long stick. With this stick I banged the can against the martin house pole again and again. It frightened the sleeping sparrows. By the moonlight I could see six come out and fly away; but I think there were more.

Two pairs of sparrows came back in the morning. They had made their nests side by side in the third story. Long grasses were hanging out from the entrances. Perhaps the martins were sorry for them; anyway, it looked as if they were willing to play fair. They did not chase them off any more; and the sparrows, being now so few, no longer molested the martins.

The martins now began to clean house. There were wads of chicken feathers and some broken eggs among the rubbish which they threw out. This was soon replaced by straws and sticks which they brought for their own nesting. I could only count twelve pairs of martins, so that there were plenty of rooms for them and the sparrows too. I suppose one reason why the sparrows were unwelcome is because they are such untidy housekeepers as to render close neighboring with them insanitary.

The more I see of martins, the better I like them. They are always cheerful, always busy. Their shiny, purple plumage, broad shoulders, and tapering body give them a distinguished air. These purple birds are the father martins. The mother martins’ back feathers, when exposed to the sunlight, have all the shades of violet. In front they are cream-colored, and finely speckled.

These violet-colored ones stayed around home more than the others; this is why I took them to be the mothers. The father martins flew around and brought in the provisions, which they caught on the wing. On returning a martin would sometimes sit on the porch and sing into the room to his mate; or she would come out to him, and the two would coo to each other in the most affectionate manner.

The martins were also friendly with all their bird neighbors. But they were so high up that their housekeeping was for the most part a secret which they wanted to keep to themselves. It was hard to tell what they had to eat, except when one caught a dragonfly or a grasshopper. When one got a big catch like that, he usually held it squirming in his bill a while as if he was proud of it and wanted to show it off. Or maybe he tried in this way to prolong the enjoyment of it. When it began to disappear in his bill the body always went first and the wings last.

Martins are not strong on their feet. Even when walking around on the porches of their house they just waddled, like ducks. But at flying they are masters. They can soar high, almost out of sight, then shoot straight down and skim along close to the ground.

Sometimes the martins visited the basin to get a drink or to bathe. One of their favorite pastimes was to roll in the sand in our garden. When around home they loved to perch on the wires or lounge on the porches. They also visited a bald tree not far off, and there preened themselves. I never saw them visit trees that had foliage on them.

Some more English sparrows tried from time to time to come back. It seemed as if they watched for the martins to go away. Then they would come and peer into the rooms, and even go in. The martins, however, always left one of their number on guard, for usually the intruders were soon chased away.

Once a martin caught an English sparrow in his room. He went in, but kept one wing outside, and that wing flapped and fluttered just like a flag in a high wind. No doubt the sparrow got a good beating with the other wing. Sounds of “Kr-r-r! kr-r-r!” came from the room. “Kr-r-r!” is the scolding word of the martins. It sounds as if someone, walking beside a picket fence, were scraping it with a stick. I have often heard the martins say it to the sparrows, but never have I heard them use it among themselves. They are the most contented birds, always polite and kind to one another. For good behavior I have put them on the honor roll with the chickadees and the goldfinches.

The martins are also wonderful singers and whistlers. They sing all day long, and often after dark. Their song is made up of three parts: a sibilant or smacking twitter, a trill, and a whistle. To me it sounds something like this:

“Hee_\chut-chut-chut/^tr-r-r-r\_ho/^hee\ho-ho-ho.”

They keep this up in a sort of conversational fashion, and as they do so are continually changing places on the housetop, the porches, or the wires.

In June the baby martins began to lounge on the porches and to sun themselves on the wires. After a while there were more babies. The porches were covered with them. My! how busy those parents were! As babies increased in numbers, evidently the parents felt that the older ones ought to become self-supporting; but they preferred to spend their days preening and twittering and being waited on. The parents pecked and scolded them, and finally pushed them off their perches to make them go and hunt food for themselves.

One day after the second batch of babies had appeared outside, two hawks came and perched on the telephone wires near the martin home. My attention was attracted to them by the guttural calls or scoldings of the martins. As they called, they flew swiftly to and from the house, and around in big circles. Soon the wires were lined with martins that had come from other colonies, and the air was rent with their guttural shriekings. Evidently they felt that these big birds were a great menace to their young. To the credit of the English sparrows it must be said that they also flew around with the martins, and tried to help them call attention to the danger. The hawks stayed about fifteen minutes, looking constantly in all directions; for they were completely surrounded by the vigilant and frantic martins all that time. Then they flew into a bald tree near by, and after looking on from there a while they flew away. They returned a few times after that, but never again stayed long enough to cause such a commotion.

After the young were all able to fly, the whole company was usually away most of the day. Early in the morning when they were getting ready to go, and at sunset time when they returned, there was always a great demonstration, with trilling, and twittering, and whistling, about the house and on the wires. The home-coming of the martins was a daily event to which not only we, but our neighbors also, looked forward.

Then, as night set in, there was a steady chorus of cooing as if each martin mother were singing a lullaby to her numerous babies. We used to wonder how they all existed in those rooms, six inches square by six inches high. For no matter how hot the night, they all went inside before midnight.

One evening my former neighbor, Mrs. Daily, was present when the martins returned. She also had put up a martin house, but so far it had not been occupied.

“Your house has such wide porches, and mine hasn’t any,” she remarked, as she watched the returning birds sit on the porches and coo to each other. “And,” she added, “I have been told that my house is too near the garage.”

It is true that martins are not easily attracted; but when once they have accepted a house they will be steady summer tenants for years. When I think what a pleasure it is to have a flock of these lovely birds, year after year, from April to September, I wonder that any good-sized yard is without a martin house. Martins are content to live anywhere, in town or country. All they want is the right kind of a house with plenty of room around it, and they like some wires near by for perches.

It seems to me that a martin house, perched high in broad sunlight, needs ventilation. But this must be provided without causing drafts. It can be provided by making a half-inch horizontal slit on the inner walls just below the ceiling, something like the ventilation in a steamer cabin. Martins will not tolerate drafts. Then if the two topmost rooms in the martin house are made to connect by means of a hole two and a half inches in diameter, next to the ceiling, this will greatly assist the visiting scout. When English sparrows see the scout enter the house, they will lie in wait where he entered, expecting to molest him when he comes out. But if he can leave at another exit and get his colony while the sparrows still wait for him, they will have to surrender when he returns. It is a question of numbers. This kind of house, even though it have only six or eight rooms, will attract martins, and promise a good beginning in martin lore.

My neighbor, Mrs. Cotton, has now a martin house also. It has ten rooms, ventilated as described above and with the two upper rooms connecting. There being no telephone wires near enough, a wire running over the house on four uprights serves the same purpose.

The first martin that was seen to visit this house brought a lady martin with him. Maybe he had been there before, alone, without being noticed. The pair inspected the rooms, then perched on the wire overhead and preened. Every little while Mr. Martin twittered:

^“Chow chow chow ^choochoo_choo_ho/_//^/heeho_ho_ho”

and

^“Yo ^yo yo _yo _yo.”

This pair took possession of the upper east room. The next day four more martins came. One pair took a lower east room, the other took the south room. It looked as though the wire on top and the ventilation pleased them. I was overjoyed that this house, which I had designed, proved satisfactory to these notional birds.

The dimensions of the rooms in this house are six inches square by seven inches high. The diameter of the entrances is two and a half inches; the width of porch five inches. The pole extends through the center of the house and is screwed to the roof. The rest of this house is held in place by means of a bolt underneath, which can be taken out and the house—without its roof—let down to be cleaned.[2]

Now listen to the good that martins do: A martin will eat mosquitoes by the thousand every day, besides many insects that injure fruit trees and spoil the fruit. To protect their young, martins will drive away hawks and other big birds that come near. In this way they also protect any poultry yard near by. On moonlight nights they hunt the moths and millers until midnight.

In late August the martins began to assemble in ever increasing numbers, getting ready for the journey to their winter home, which is said to be in Central and South America.

During one of the days while those gatherings were going on, the boy was here. The martins had, by this time, become so confiding that we could go clear up to the pole on which their house was mounted,—and they would stay on the wires and look down at us! I told the boy how I had driven the sparrows away from the martin house, and showed him the stick with the can tied to it. He tried it on the nearest telephone pole, and instantly the martins flew from the wires. It looked like a great gathering in midair.

The father martins were much darker at this time than in the Spring,—in fact, almost black. Mother’s pretty violet hues had faded to gray. Baby Martin was brownish-gray on the back, and light in front.

One day the whole colony departed, a jolly company, leaving us sad indeed, but hopeful that they would return with the Spring flowers.