32 The Passenger Pigeon 



their avidity is at times so great that in attempting to 

 swallow a large acorn or nut, they are seen gasping for 

 a long while, as if in agonies of suffocation. 



On such occasions, when the woods are filled with 

 these pigeons, they are killed in immense numbers, 

 although no apparent diminution ensues. About the 

 middle of the day, after their repast is finished, they 

 settle on the trees, to enjoy rest, and digest their food. 

 On the ground they walk with ease, as well as on the 

 branches, frequently jerking their beautiful tail, and 

 moving the neck backwards and forwards in the most 

 graceful manner. As the sun begins to sink beneath the 

 horizon, they depart eti masse for the roosting place, 

 which not infrequently is hundreds of miles distant, as 

 has been ascertained by persons who have kept an 

 account of their arrivals and departures. 



Let us now, kind reader, inspect their place of nightly 

 rendezvous. One of these curious roosting places, on 

 the banks of the Green River in Kentucky, I repeatedly 

 visited. It was, as is always the case, in a portion of 

 the forest where the trees were of great magnitude, and 

 where there was little underwood. I rode through it 

 upwards of forty miles, and, crossing it in different 

 parts, found its average breadth to be rather more than 

 three miles. My first view of it was about a fortnight 

 subsequent to the period when they had made choice of 

 it, and I arrived there nearly two hours before sunset. 

 Few pigeons were then to be seen, but a great number 



