138 BIRD LIFE GLIMPSES 



come and watch a colony of starlings at work in a 

 gravel-pit. 



But starlings are most interesting when they flock, 

 each night, to their accustomed roosting-place ; in 

 autumn, more especially, when their numbers are 

 greatest. It is difficult to say, exactly, when the 

 more commonplace instincts and emotions, which 

 have animated the birds throughout the day, begin 

 to pass into that strange excitement which heralds 

 and pervades the home-flying. Comparatively 

 early, however, in the afternoon many may be 

 seen sitting in trees — especially orchard trees — and 

 singing in a very full-throated manner. They are 

 not eating the fruit ; a dead and fruitless tree holds 

 as many, in proportion to its size, as any of the 

 other ones. Presently a compact flock comes down 

 in an adjacent meadow, and the birds composing it 

 are continually joined by many of the singing ones. 

 Whilst watching them, other flocks begin to sweep 

 by on hurrying pinions, and one notices that many 

 of the high elm trees, into which they wheel, are 

 already stocked with birds, whilst the air begins, 

 gradually, to fill with a vague, babbling susurrus, 

 that, blending with the stillness or with each ac- 

 customed sound, is perceived before it is heard — a 

 felt atmosphere of song. One by one, or mingling 

 with one another, these flocks leave the trees, and 

 fly on towards the wood of their rest ; but by that 

 principle which impels some of any number, how- 

 ever great, to join any other great number, many 

 detach themselves from the main stream of advance, 

 and fly to the ever-increasing multitudes which still 

 wheel, or walk, over the fields. It seems strange 



