Abstract
THE first swallow arrived here alone in the rain on Monday, March 19. It entered the best room of the curé by one of the windows which chanced to want a pane, and the good old man immediately removed a pane from the other window, by which the swallows have been in the habit of going in and out. I did not hear of the arrival of this summer resident until the 23rd, when I immediately paid it a visit. It is still solitary but not uncomfortable; it flits about the room from place to place, and from nest to nest, twittering very contentedly; and when a bright hour comes it flies out, where, sporting in the sun it soon makes a hearty meal. But it has arrived decidedly too soon, for it has found as yet mostly wet and rather cold days with snow-covered mountains for its immediate surrounding. Such, however, is the climate of this place, difficult to conceive by untravelled Englishmen, that I at this moment bask outside in the sun, soothed by the singing of birds, surrounded by flowers and butterflies, and the green trees with their golden fruits. I am in the midst of summer, and yet I have but to turn my head, and there, close at hand, are the mountains white with snow.
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SPALDING, D. The First Swallow at Menton. Nature 15, 488 (1877). https://doi.org/10.1038/015488b0
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1038/015488b0
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