THE LOST DOVE 



Their colors were so pretty — head and back a soft, 

 soft blue; neck glistening with violet, red, and gold; 

 underneath, a wonderful purple red fading into violet 

 shades, and then into bluish white. Who would not like 

 to seek, for the love of seeing so beautiful a bird, even 

 though no one paid a reward in money? 



Shall we go, then, to Kentucky? For 't was there the 

 man named Audubon once saw them come in flocks to 

 roost at night. They kept coming from sunset till after 

 midnight, and their numbers were so great that their 

 wings, even while still a long wa}^ off, made a sound like 

 a gale of mnd; and when close to, the noise of the birds 

 was so loud that men could not hear one another speak, 

 even though they stood near and shouted. The place 

 where Audubon saw these pigeons was in a forest near 

 the Green River ; and there were so many that they filled 

 the trees over a space forty miles long and more than 

 three miles wide. They perched so thickly that the 

 branches of the great trees broke under their weight, and 

 went crashing to the ground; and their roosting-place 

 looked as if a tornado had rushed through the forest. 



Must there not be wild pigeons, yet, roosting in Ken- 

 tucky — some small flock, perhaps, descended from the 

 countless thousands seen by Audubon? No, not one of 

 all these doves is left, they tell us, in the woods in that 

 part of the country. The rush of their wings has been 



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