JOURNAL OF MAINE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



73 



to sometimes one hundred indi- 

 viduals, the white drakes contrasted 

 by the reddish colored ducks, readily 

 determining the species. As they 

 pass along in straggling flocks but a 

 few feet above the level of the sea, 

 they will be seen at intervals of a few 

 minutes to rise in air, scan the water 

 before them, returning in a curve to 

 their former level. 



Again you may see flocks of scoter 

 ducks acting much the same, but 

 often flying much higher above the 

 water than do the former. Occasion- 

 ally a small squad of long-tail ducks 

 will dash by, seeming to act as if they 

 did not care if anything was in the 

 way or not. 



Now and then one or more of Hol- 

 boell's Grebe pass by with extended 

 neck in front and legs behind, resem- 

 bling in shape an old fashioned bel- 

 lows. 



A black guillemot comes rolling 

 along from side to side, looking as if 

 it used, first one wing and then the 

 other, and when seemingly doing its 

 best, drops suddenly into the water 

 like a ball, whirl around a number of 

 times, and you could imagine it might 

 say, it don't make much odds where 

 I go, I might as well drop here as 

 anywhere. 



Other days come when the scene is 

 opposite the one just described, days 

 when old ocean beats in all its fury 

 upon the rocky shore, and the wind 

 shrieks and moans, and the clouds 

 seem distorted with madness. Under 

 those conditions are to be seen again, 

 the same species of birds before de- 

 scribed, some struggling against the 

 fury of the gale just above the level 

 of the waves, now and then rising 

 suddenly in air to avoid the wrath of 

 some more angry billow than the rest, 

 whose crest is blown off by the wind, 

 into the hollow left behind. 



Flocks of Brunnich's Murre rush by 

 before the wind, with no regulation 

 as to flight, but seemingly in a go as 

 you please race, while above the 

 booming of the sea and shrieking of 

 the gale, the sea gulls cry is heard as 

 if in derision to the storm. 



And thus mid -winter comes and 

 with it days when not a bird is seen 

 or heard, unless it be the croaking of 

 a raven, as it scans the shore line for 

 its food, or suddenly rising in the air, 

 darts perpendicularlj" toward the 

 earth, turning over and over in its 



descent, and when the ground is 

 nearly reached, swiftly remounts in 

 air repeating such manoeuvres many 

 times. 



And even that black, croaking form, 

 Seems like a friend that's long been gone. 



And thus the days pass into weeks, 

 and weeks pass slowly into months 

 and March has come, and straggling 

 sea birds warn us of the hosts that 

 are behind, and as the month goes 

 on, flocks of Brunnich's Murre, and 

 dovekie are seen moving toward their 

 northern breeding grounds. The 

 eider ducks come next in flight, while 

 gradually the scoters follow on. 



As time goes on, the snow left by 

 the storm disappears as quickly as it 

 came. Then comes a morning when 

 all nature seems hushed, the least 

 sound vibrating on the moisture bur- 

 dened air. 



The matted grass and shrubs of a 

 departed year lie bleached and brok- 

 en by the winter blasts, while lichen 

 covered rocks peer through the tan- 

 gled mass, and over head the grey 

 sky lends its lonesome aspect to the 

 scene. 



Suddenly upon the impressive 

 scene, breaks forth in song a sparrow, 

 the harbinger of spring. Note after 

 note rings out upon the quiet morn- 

 ing air, and /l/d'/o.f;*/3^//75(MA/ seems to 

 say "cheer up, cheer up, there's bet- 

 ter days to come," and all at once the 

 world looks bright again. Gradually 

 the number of song sparrows in- 

 creases, until from all directions come 

 to us their most melodious songs. 



The juncos too are also seen, all 

 busily scratching among the weeds, 

 and when disturbed seek other 

 ground, uttering as they fly their 

 snappy notes. 



The scoter ducks each day pass on 

 their northern flight, while now and 

 then a flock of geese are seen. 



Cormorants in flocks are to be seen, 

 which to the unpracticed eye might 

 pass for geese. The difference can 

 readily be told by a peculiar habit 

 they have when flying, to stop at in- 

 definite intervals all motions of their 

 wings, glide for a moment, and again 

 resume the former motions of their 

 flight. No matter how many are in 

 the flock, when one begins the move- 

 ment, all usually do the same. Some- 

 times one half of the flock will alter- 

 nate the movement, which gives a 



