THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS. 181 



the ground, in the bed of the road, about 

 the bare spots in the marsh, and on the gray 

 faces of the hills. Other multitudes were in 

 the bushes and low trees, literally loading 

 them. Every few minutes a detachment 

 would rise into the air like a cloud, and anon 

 settle down again. As we stood gazing at 

 the spectacle, my companion began chirping 

 at a youngster who sat near him on a post, 

 as one might chirp to a caged canary. The 

 effect was magical. The bird at once started 

 toward him, others followed, and in a few 

 seconds hundreds were flying about our 

 heads. Round and round they went, almost 

 within reach, like a cloud of gnats. "Stop ! 

 stop! " cried my companion; "I am getting 

 dizzy." We stopped our squeakings, and 

 the cloud lifted ; but I can see it yet. Day 

 after day the great concourse remained about 

 the hills, till on the 13th we came away and 

 left them. The old lighthouse keeper told 

 me that this was their annual rendezvous. 

 He once saw them circle for a loner time 



O 



above the dunes, for several hours, if I re- 

 member right, till, as it seemed, all strag- 

 glers had been called in from the beach, the 

 marsh, and the outlying grassy hills. Then 



