Notes from Field and Study 



103 



A Tropical Migration Tragedy 



[We are indebted to Prof. M. H. Saville 

 for a copy of 'El Comercio' for October 18, 

 1915, a newspaper published at San Pedro 

 Sula, Honduras, which contains the fol- 

 lowing account of a migration tragedy. — 

 Editor.] 



"At midnight, on October 10, 1915, 

 there commenced to appear groups of birds 

 flying in a southerly direction. At the 

 time darkness set in, we began to hear the 

 call of a great number of birds that were 

 circling constantly over the city. This 

 avian invasion increased considerably dur- 

 ing the night. The main part of the army 

 of invasion crossing the Gulf of Honduras 

 arrived in the evening off the coast of 

 Puerto Cortes. These birds do not travel 

 by day, but follow the eastern shore, 

 guided by certain groups that, toward 

 night, exhausted, ceasing their flight, turn 

 inland. The bright rays from the electric 

 lights projected high in among the clouds, 

 serving to indicate the position of San 

 Pedro Sula and, attracted by its splendor, 

 the bird emigrants, greatly fatigued by 

 their vigorous exercise in the long flight 

 against contrary winds in their travel 

 across the Gulf of Mexico (approximately 

 700 miles), their short stay in Yucatan, 

 and their flight across the Gulf of Hon- 

 duras, the greater part of them fell one 

 upon another in their revolutions about 

 the lights, some dropping half-crazed 

 against the roofs and fences, breaking 

 wings and legs, some dying outright. 



"At two o'clock in the morning, the 

 greater part of the expedition directed 

 toward this zone had arrived in the neigh- 

 borhood of the city. It was at that time 

 that the sound of their striking against 

 the posts and the electric wires was a 

 continual tattoo. It seemed almost as 

 though the stones in the streets had been 

 awakened, and were being hurled against 

 the inhabitants. Numbers of birds strik- 

 ing against the zinc roofs gave off a sound 

 like hurrying footsteps, the drumming on 

 the zinc extending over the entire city. 

 At one spot within a radius of two yards 

 there fell dying six wounded birds. In the 



morning the streets were strewn with 

 bodies; the greater part of them dead, 

 others wounded." 



A Shower of Birds 



In the fall of 191 5, a violent wind-storm 

 passed through the southern states, just 

 grazing the edge of Spartanburg, in upper 

 South Carolina. Here the minister of the 

 First Presbyterian Church was about to 

 take shelter in his home, from the fury 

 of the wind, when he saw what appeared 

 to be a small, black cloud swoop down 

 upon his roof and disappear. He hastened 

 in, and found, to his and his family's 

 dismay, that little black birds were fairly 

 pouring down one of the chimneys. 



The birds seemed to have been stunned 

 by the force of the gale to which they had 

 been exposed, and the floor was soon 

 covered, several inches deep, with their 

 inanimate bodies. They were picked up 

 by the bucketful, and thrown out, but 

 soon revived and flew away, none the 

 worse, apparently, for their unusual 

 experience. Two little fellows who were 

 overlooked took refuge on a curtain pole, 

 where they were discovered by a little 

 girl, several hours later. 



This is probably the only time on record 

 when it literally rained birds. The birds 

 were common Chimney Swifts. — R. L. 

 Fripp, Spartanburg, S. C. 



A Heron's Involuntary Bath 



Some of the little comedies of bird life 

 are amusing to the onlooker, although, 

 like those happening to human beings, not 

 always so pleasant to the individuals 

 participating. A neighbor of mine where 

 I Live on the shores of an island in the 

 Great South Bay, took up his dock for 

 the winter season and left a stake in the 

 water. It is beneath the surface except at 

 low tide when it projects an inch or two 

 above. At dusk on the evening of October 

 23, 1915, two Black-crowned Night 

 Herons came winging along. The one in 

 the lead, happening to spy the top of the 

 nearly submerged stake, immediately 



