A Bouquet of Song Birds 
rows of poles stretching half across the river, 
and by seeing the fishermen here and there 
grappling the nets attached to them, and 
emptying the contents into the boats, that fish 
as well as fowl are now on their way north- 
ward, and that shad are making their long 
submerged journey from the Gulf of Mexico 
along the coast, and up all of the larger rivers. 
This seems more incomprehensible than bird- 
migration. Do the finny tribes have some in- 
explicable cognition of their locality while be- 
neath the waves; or do they have to stick 
their heads out, now and then, in order to get 
their bearings? What cheerless, solemn pro- 
cessions are thus semi-annually pursuing their 
hidden, winding way along the shore, for hun- 
dreds of miles, unless a fish has a sense of so- 
ciability, a means of converse, and sources of 
hilarity which we do not dream of. 
Sandpipers were scudding about on the 
wing, or running among the moss-covered 
rocks that fringe the semi-marine shore ; house 
wrens sang by the way, and redstarts, vireos, 
and wood thrushes were numerous; while a 
flock of chimney swallows — fleet-winged mari- 
ners upon the shoreless air—relieved the an- 
gularity of the cliffs by continuously circling 
23 
