THE PASSENGER PIGEON. 



Some people call us the Wild Pigeon 

 and the Gypsy among birds. We do 

 wander long distances in search of food, 

 and when we have eaten all the beech 

 nuts in one part of the country, take 

 wing, and away we go like a great 

 army to another place. 



And such an anny ! We form in a 

 column eight or ten miles long, thou- 

 sands and thousands of us, our approach 

 sounding like a gale among the rigging 

 of a vessel. Not always in a straight 

 course do we go, but in a winding way 

 looking for all the world, against the 

 sky, like a vast river. Then our 

 leaders give the word, our captains, 

 you know, and we form in a straight 

 line, sweeping along as you have seen 

 regiments of soldiers marching on 

 parade. We are just as fond of form- 

 ing new figures as they are, and our 

 captains, by their actions, give their 

 orders much in the same way. 



"Down, Up! Right, Left!" and 

 away we go forming our evolutions in 

 the air. 



But you should see us when Mr. 

 Hawk attacks our flock. Then, like a 

 torrent, and with a noise like thunder, 

 we rush into one compact mass, each 

 pressing upon the other toward the 

 center. Swiftly we descend almost to 

 the earth, then up again, forming as 



we do a straight column, twisting, 

 turning, looking, when far up in the 

 air, like a great serpent. At other 

 times we fly straight ahead, very swiftly^ 

 going at the rate of a mile a minute. 

 I don't believe any of you little folks 

 have ever traveled as fast as that behind 

 a locomotive. 



Then our roosting places ! Ah, you 

 ought to see us there ! There was one 

 in Kentucky, I remember, in a dense 

 forest, where the trees were very large, 

 a forest forty miles long and three wide, 

 larger than many cities. The Pigeons 

 began to collect after sunset, thousands 

 upon thousands, flock after flock con- 

 tinuing to arrive even after midnight. 

 There were not trees enough to go 

 around, and so many of us perched 

 upon one limb that the largest branches 

 broke, killing hundreds of Pigeons in 

 their fall. The noise we made 

 could be heard at the distance of 

 three miles. People who like Pigeon 

 pie came with long poles and guns, 

 and when morning broke, and the 

 Pigeons that could fly had disappeared, 

 there were heaps and heaps of little 

 fellows lying dead upon the ground. 



We occupied that roost about two 

 weeks. When we left it for good, the 

 forest looked like it had been swept 

 by a tornado. 



