A LESSON IN FLYING

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 74, 29 March 1933, Page 14

A LESSON IN FLYING

(Sent In by Jessie Meikle, Astley Avenue, New Lynn.) They built their nest in the old barn, and when the young ones were hatched, we went every day and cautiously watched the parents in their task of bringing up the rising generation. Mr. and Mrs. Swallow were very good about letting us stay there. So long as we kept quiet and remained at a respectful distance, they did not seem to mind. Before long the whole of the nursery —five of them —were able to sit in a fluffy, squawking row on one of the rafters.

It was then that the flying lessons began. They were given by mother, and were surely one of the prettiest, cleverest bite of instruction that ever was seen. She would fly out into the garden and come back with a fine fat worm, which she would bring up quite close to the row of gaping young folks. But she would not let one of them touch it. Oh, no—that was not her plan. Immediately they realised what an appetising morsel she had, she would dart away from them, and begin flying up and down. To and fro she flew, dangling the prize before their eyes, tantalising them, whetting their desire for it.

At last, one of the little ones —hungrier, perhaps, or bolder than the rest —would take his courage in both wings and flutter off the beam to make a peck at it. Then instantly the mother would reward the venturesome fledgling by giving him the prize.

Day after day the same lesson was oft-times repeated, the mother flying at an ever-widening distance from the rafter, as the children's wings grew stronger, until at last there was not one who didn't understand the proverb: "Nothing venture, nothing have."

But they were not yet fully instructed. This charming little series of elementary lessons was followed by an advanced course, when father and mother together took them for ten or eleven successive days on all-day flights around the neighbourhood. Then they were ready to set out all together for the long migration.— (Copied.)

The letter X is the composite sound of the letters K and S. X may be a contraction for K (is) S. More probably the practice began when few men could write and many signed documents by a simple cross. The cross was afterwards kissed as a sign of fidelity.