LANGUAGE OF BIRDS 



the moving form can be caught. It appears at 

 first to the Hstener that the sound proceeds from 

 the bird as it slowly wheels to and fro in the gloom, 

 but more careful observation shows that the 

 nightjar is constantly alighting, and that the cry 

 comes only or chiefly when with head depressed, 

 it crouches lengthwise on a bough. 



At the season of the year when the migrants are 

 moving from the far North there is always a sense 

 of romance in the air when one rests on the cliifs 

 facing the open sea, listening to the birds that pass 

 in the night. 



For a while no sound is heard save the sigh of 

 the breeze and the distant lapping of the sea on 

 the beach. Then you may hear a faint beating 

 of wings, the sound growing more insistent for a 

 brief second, and then falling again into 

 silence. Some birds fly without uttering a note 

 and one may speculate in vain as to the race of 

 these travellers in the darkness that have come 

 from afar and still press through the night seek- 

 ing, with undeviating purpose, a destination that 

 in some mysterious way is know4 to them alone. 



But even when no cry is made, the beat of the 

 wings may give a clue. The swish of the wild 

 duck's pinion has a note of its own, and it may 

 well be, if our ears were better attuned, we could 

 distinguish the larger birds simply by their wing- 

 sounds. 



In many cases, however, the night-wanderers 

 cry as they pass, and even then our sense of hear- 

 ing is not always sufficiently acute to make certain 

 of the species. This rarely happens in the day- 

 time, but at night, faint whistles, familiar, yet 

 having some strange quality, fall from the sky, 

 and we pause to ask : ' ' What was that ? " 

 It has been said that birds vary their note when 

 flying at night, but it is quite possible that our 



97 



