176 THE PASSENGER PIGEON IN PENNSYLVANIA 



to the bottom' shelf was a bird with ruddy breast that 

 looked stra'ngely familiar. Sure enough, it bore the 

 label, Pigeon Migrateur (Columba Migratorius) 

 Mise en France. The writer did not need to visit any 

 other parts of the old museum that afternoon. His 

 spirit was filled with images — of that sad, lone 

 bird, taken in France : How it crossed the seas, its 

 story of mystery and romance that stood there imtold, 

 never to be told, except in dim chords that beat and 

 throbbed within the soul of the beholder. Perhaps 

 from beloved distant Pennsylvania that pigeon had 

 gone to "'find its ultimate islands" by the Somme, the 

 Saone or the Allier, or on the gloomy heights of Puy 

 de Dome. It may have been the sole survivor of those 

 fabled millions which attempted to cross the ocean 

 only to perish during a storm at sea ; this one in the 

 end to furnish a bon coup de fusil for some veneiir 

 in France ! But if the passenger pigeon is rare today, 

 ic was once the most plentiful form of bird life that 

 ever existed in the Keystone State. All the old men will 

 tell you, first of all, that their flights "darkened the 

 sun". That alone is incredible to the modern person 

 who, if he sees a score of grackles or- crows, is 

 amazed ''at the plentitude of bird life". The passen- 

 ger pigeons were so numerous in their roosts, accord- 

 ing to Mr. Chatham, that though one shouted at the 

 top of his voice, he could not make himself heard to 

 a person standing directly in front of him. so loud 

 was the whistling of the myriad birds. Winthrop 

 Sargent. Pennsylvania Railroad official, states that in 



