BIRDS. 



THE BIRD is little more than a 

 drift ot the air brought into 

 form by plumes; the air is in 

 all its quills, it breathes through 

 its whole frame and flesh, and glows 

 with air in its flying, like a blown 

 flame; it rests upon the air, subdues it, 

 surpasses it, outraces it — is the air, 

 conscious of itself, conquering itself, 

 ruling itself. 



Also, into the throat of the Bird is 

 given the voice of the air. All that in 

 the wind itself is weak, wild, useless in 

 sweetness, is knit together in its song. 

 As we may imagine the wild form of 

 the cloud closed into the perfect form 

 of the Bird's wings, so the wild voice 

 of the cloud into its ordered and com- 

 manded voice; unwearied, rippling 

 through the clear heaven in its glad- 

 ness, interpreting all intense passion 

 through the soft spring nights, burst- 

 ing into acclaim and rapture of choir 

 at daybreak, or lisping and twittering 



among the boughs and hedges through 

 heat of day, like little winds that only 

 make the Cowslip bells shake, and 

 ruffle the petals of the Wild Rose. 



Also, upon the plumes of the Bird 

 are put the colors of the air; on these 

 the gold of the cloud, that cannot be 

 gathered by any covetousness; the 

 rubies of the clouds, the vermilion of 

 the cloud-bar, and the flame of the 

 cloud-crest, and the snow of the cloud, 

 and its shadow, and the melted blue of 

 the deep wells of the sky — all these, 

 seized by the creating spirit, and woven 

 into films and threads of plume; with 

 wave on wave following and fading 

 along breast and throat and opened 

 wings, infinite as the dividing of the 

 foam and the sifting of the sea-sand; 

 even the white down of the cloud 

 seeming to flutter up between the 

 stronger plumes, seen, but too soft for 

 touch. — RUSKIN. 



BIRDS IN STORMS. 



DURING windstorms birds may 

 sometimes be seen flying over- 

 head at a great height. When 

 this is observable, it is said it 

 may be taken for granted that the 

 upper atmosphere is comparatively 

 quiet, and the disturbance is confined 

 chiefly to the lower regions. Many 

 seabirds seek the upper air of compara- 

 tive quietness during tropical hurri- 

 canes. A writer in the Boston Tran- 

 script says that when a heavy wind or 

 gale springs up, the Gulls, Terns and 

 Petrels will fly back and forth over the 

 water's surface, rising and falling, and 

 uttering their peculiar cries of warning. 

 If the storm extends too high up they 

 will drift gradually with the wind, or 

 fly away on the edge of the hurricane. 

 Very often they get caught unexpect- 

 edly in the gales of wind, and they find 

 themselves in a dangerous position. 

 Then they struggle with might and 



main against the powers of the air cur- 

 rents. Knowing that danger and death 

 face them if they once come under the 

 dominion of the wind, they use all the 

 strength and tactics they are capable 

 of to combat the elements. A young 

 Herring Gull, a Petrel, or a Tern thus 

 surprised will beat up against the wind 

 with powerful flight. It will rise high 

 in the air, facing the gale, and making 

 a little progress forward as well as up- 

 ward. Then it will suddenly descend 

 with rapid flight toward one side of the 

 storm-swept path, but falling off at the 

 same time in the direction of the blow- 

 ing wind. Once more it will sweep 

 around and face the storm, ascending 

 heavenwards and striking desperately 

 out toward the direction of the storm. 

 By pursuing these tactics, the bird will 

 gradually work itself to one side of the 

 storm centre. 



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