Journal of maine ornithological society. 



75 



numbers in the air. Some are strug- 

 gling against the glass of the lantern 

 that guards the light, while others 

 striking the metal dome above, come 

 tumbling dead or dying to the ground. 

 Others hop along the walk around 

 the light, while dead and dying birds 

 gives a carnage aspect to the scene. 

 A pandeAonium of bird life reigns 

 which is seldom witnessed unless bj' 

 those who spend some years around 

 an off shore light station. Mornings 

 following such nights as just describ- 

 ed, hundreds of dead and injured 

 birds may be found around the base 

 of the lighthouse, while if time per- 

 mitted, hundreds of others might be 

 found among the grass some distance 

 from the tower. Owing to that fact, 

 it is almost impossible to make an 

 estimate of the mortality caused by 

 such a flight. 



A most excellent discription of such 

 bird phenomena may be found in 

 Memoirs of the Nuttall Ornithological 

 Club, No. 1. Bird Migration. By 

 William Brewster, observed at the 

 lighthouse at Point Lepreaux, Bay of 

 Fundy, New Brunswick, in 1885. 



Although Mr. Brewster's observa- 

 tions differ some from mine, they 

 were no doubt due to the difference 

 in location, and the more frequent 

 fogs upon that part of the coast. 



Nights of strong north or northwest 

 winds offer during the forenoon of the 

 following day, another phase of bird 

 vicissitudes. Soon after sunrise may 

 be seen from that part of the island 

 which fronts the sea, one or more 

 small birds trying to reach a haven of 

 rest, after a night or more of battle 

 with adverse winds. Steadily they 

 arrive from all directions over the 

 sea, some seeming not to have mind- 

 ed the struggle of the night, while 

 others bj' their strenuous efforts at 

 once suggested the exhaustion they 

 had been forced to bear. Some came 

 on even flight to land, while others 

 struggled on but a few feet above the 

 water, straining every muscle as 

 could be seen to reach the shore not 

 far away. Now and then one would 

 be seen, the primary feathers of its 

 wings now and then clipping the 

 water as it tried to sustain its painful 

 flight. Slowly but surely its efforts 

 became weaker and weaker, until its 

 little muscles could do no more, and 

 it fell into the dreaded sea close to 

 the land it tried so hard to reach. 



Many times I have seen them float 

 for a moment upon the water with 

 outstretched wings, then struggle 

 into the air finally reaching the 

 shore, where they dropped exhausted 

 close by the surf line of the sea. 



A very impressive tragedy in bird 

 life was witnessed by myself on the 

 morning of September 30th of the 

 present year. About nine o'clock on 

 the morning of the date just mention- 

 ed, while anchored off the southeast- 

 ern shore of Seguin Island, waiting 

 for scoter ducks to come to my de- 

 coys, my attention was attracted to a 

 small bird that was flying in from sea. 

 The wind was blowing hard from the 

 northwest, while an old swell burst in 

 foam upon the shore. As the bird 

 came nearer, it proved to be a spar- 

 row in a very exhausted condition, 

 struggling to^ reach the land some 

 hundred yards or more away. At 

 times its wing tips touched the water 

 as it painfully labored on, trying to 

 avoid the inevitable that must come. 

 A few more struggles and it lay upon 

 the water with outstretched wings, 

 fifty or more yards from the head of 

 the cove towards which its flight had 

 been directed, and less that distance 

 to the shore upon the left. Half the 

 distance to the left and off from 

 shore, a partly submerged rock thrust 

 its ragged surface through the surf. 

 The bird rested but a moment on the 

 water, then struggled on its wings 

 and tried to reach the rock just men- 

 tioned. It had nearly reached the 

 rock when its strength again gave 

 out, and it again dropped into the 

 water but a few yards from the goal 

 it had tried so hard to reach. I then 

 cast loose from my anchor, intending 

 as I had done at times before, to take 

 the bird into my boat until it had 

 rested, and then let it fly to land. 

 When within a few feet of the bird, 

 what was my surprise to see it once 

 more rise in air, and when about to 

 land dropped into the crest of a wave 

 that tumbled on the rock. When the 

 sea had somewhat quieted down, I 

 was again surprised to see the bird 

 clinging to a small pinnacle of the 

 rock, left bare by the receding surf. 

 So draggled and hopeless was its ap- 

 pearance, that the old adage, "a 

 drowning man will cling to a straw," 

 came forcibly to my mind. While 

 waiting for the sea to get more regu- 

 lar so that I could get to where the 



