188 THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS. 



smile) that I should see my bird again. My 

 lunch was hastier than usual, and I was about 

 to sally forth when it flashed across me 

 'Suppose the bird should be there again, 

 who would believe my story? Hold! I will 



have a witness.' I called to Mr. J , 



who was at work upstairs, and after explain- 

 ing what I wanted, invited him to accom- 

 pany me. We cautiously entered the rock- 

 ery, and within a few minutes there flitted 

 from a neighboring thicket into that very 

 SpiraBa bush my black-cap ! I took out my 

 watch. It was just half past one I " 



My own experiences in this kind have 

 been much less striking and dramatic than 

 the foregoing, but I may add that a few 

 years ago I witnessed the vernal migration 

 in a new piece of country ten miles or so 

 from my old field and found myself at a 

 very considerable disadvantage. I had never 

 realized till then how much accustomed I 

 had grown to look for particular birds in 

 particular places, and not in other places of 

 a quite similar character. 



I speak of witnessing a migration; but 

 what we see for the most part (ducks and 

 geese being excepted) is not the actual move- 



