Over two centuries ago Dr. Plot wrote of the Swift, “ ... it having so very long wings, and so short legs and small feet, that it cannot easily rise from the ground unless it be very plain and free from grass; wherefore it either always flies or sits on the tops of churches, towers, or else hangs on other ancient buildings by its sharp claws, from which it falls and so takes its flight.” It would appear from old records to be very much commoner now in our country than it was; and several recent accounts attest to its trick of exploring the old nesting-hole of a Starling. Mr. Yates, of Staffordshire, and Mr. Carr-Ellison, of Alnwick, both give interesting facts in corroboration of this proclivity. In an Eccleshall street Mr. Yates saw a Swift enter a hole where it had been in the habit of nesting, but it quickly emerged with a Starling fast to its tail. So weighted, the unlucky Swift soon came to the ground and to grief, but it was rescued and was started on its flight again. The Alnwick naturalist, again, saw a Starling pecking at a grounded Swift, and drove the former away. The Starling then flew on to an apple espalier close by, and watched the Swift, which tried to fly along the slightly sloping walk, but it could not get its wings clear of the ground. Its friend lifted and threw it up in the air. Three times this gentleman has witnessed the same scene at long intervals. The reason of it is that he had had a hole made near his study window for nesting purposes. Starlings always build in this in April or early in May, and after they have left Swifts build in the same hole. Sometimes they attempt this too soon; one comes to explore the hole, and gets caught by a returning Starling who at once pulls it to the ground below, where it is pecked whenever it tries to move. The Swift never alights on the ground of its own free will; about eighty of these birds, which were picked up dead on a peninsula where I once sojourned, had dropped, exhausted by violent storms encountered on the migratory flight, and there for want of food and help they had perished. It is a delight to watch the evolutions of a Swift on a clear evening; with a grand, falcon-like stooping, the cock-bird begins to drive its mate back to her nest; at least, such is supposed to be its intention. The males first rise high in the air, and then make the swoop, and there is much evading by the females, and renewed pursuit, after which the males come back alone to enjoy themselves whilst their mates sit quietly on their nests.