Whistling Siwaiis. 85 
out to them. Eventually they were both shot by a vandal who so far has 
escaped justice. 
The great flocks passed over Detroit in the night during this fall’s migra- 
tion. It was most impressive to hear in the darkness of midnight their 
yoices intermingling and blending most delightfully, as they winged their 
way over the vast mileage of their unmarked aerial highway. What inner 
knowledge is it that holds these birds and others on the correct course 
without sign marks, without beacons or range lights or without the aid 
of a more or less uncivil station agent? Does not each bird hold within 
the recesses of his heart a true compass? Does he not also hold in that 
heart of his a complete calendar which tells him when it is time to 
«tart north or south according to the time of the year? Daylight or 
darkness are alike to him and he keeps on his wnvarying way through 
sunshine or the blackness of the moonless night. 
The stork has certainly been kind to the ladies of the swan family, 
and with the protection of two paternal governments it would seem that 
they will again be able to raise their young and again become quite com- 
mon. 
It would be interesting to learn if there has been a corresponding increase 
in the number of Trumpeter Swans (Olor buccinator). These birds former- 
ly were not strangers in the Lake region although they were never as com- 
mon as the Whistling Swans: but during each spring and fall migration 
an occasional one was noted. I last heard one about 15 years ago in May, 
the month in which they were most apt to be seen. One still morning on 
Grand Traverse Bay, just as the rosy light was creeping over the water 
putting to flight the delicate hues of mauve, green, and amber, burnishing 
the silver surface of the water and changing it to pinkish gold, I was 
startled and awakened from slumber by the glorious call of the great 
Trumpeter Swan,—‘Ah-ah-ah-way, ah-ah-ah-way”. Far out on the lovely 
water swam this beautiful bird, alone save for his reflection on the silvered 
surface. Like a ghost he was, a ghost of all the wonderful company of his 
kind that had gone before. 
