WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



ber, can fail to hear in the gloom above him the 

 almost incessant voices of passing birds, calling to 

 one another, and doing their best to find the way 

 and to keep together. It is at such times especial- 

 ly that birds are attracted by lights. The glow 

 of illuminated towns allures them from afar, and 

 the occupants of all tall buildings, such as nowa- 

 days rise like monuments in our cities, will tell 

 you that night after night in the migrating season 

 little birds knock at their upper windows and can 

 hardly be driven away. 



Nowhere, however, does this occur so plentifully 

 as about lofty light-houses. On dark, quiet nights 

 in the migrating season the great beams projected 

 from these beacons will shine for hours together 

 upon drifting, eddying hosts of birds of many 

 sorts that flock about the lantern, rising and fall- 

 ing and fluttering like moths about a candle or 

 huge snowflakes whirling in a wintry gale. All 

 seem dazed by the glare as they rush into the pow- 

 erful rays shot forth by the lenses; and many a 

 one, blinded or crazed, dashes headlong against 

 the lantern and falls stunned or dead upon the 

 balcony or the rocks beneath. Hundreds of poor 

 little victims to this infatuation for the brilliant 

 light perish every year in and about the electric 



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