BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



that in spite of all the paddle-shaped hands and 

 feet, the gills, the astonishingly long tail and 

 beakless mouth, that eventually a fluffy, yellow 

 chick will evolve and emerge from the shell. 



When we have followed this marvel through the 

 short three weeks of embryonic life, and realize 

 that every bird in the world, from hummingbird 

 to ostrich, has passed through identical stages, we 

 return to a singing wood thrush with new compre- 

 hension and appreciation. 



The plumage, eggs and the food of our common 

 birds may have been well known for many years 

 but under the stars of a night in May or September 

 the beginner stands an equal chance with the most 

 learned ornithologist. We are as yet only feeling 

 our way to facts and theories of migration. On 

 a misty night the heavens are filled with the low 

 chirps and twitters of the winging hosts, and 

 if for a few seconds the darkness could be dis- 

 pelled, the clouds of birds in sight would be 

 astounding. Opportunities for the beginner are 

 manifold. In the field in the daylight he may so 

 attune his ear to call-notes that he is capable of 

 making an aural list, gleaned from an ornithological 

 listening post throughout a whole night, — some- 

 thing that, as far as I know, has never been done. 

 Or he may so master the flight, the personalite en 

 volant, of small birds that he may read the riddles 

 on the face of the moon. With a good pair of 

 binoculars mounted on a tripod, bird after bird 

 may be seen traversing the great round window 



194 



