THE PASSING OF THE BIRDS. 193 



discovered all at once that there were none to 

 be found. After the first of July I neither 

 saw nor heard a cuckoo of either species! 

 Had they moved away? I do not know; 

 but the case may be taken as an extreme 

 illustration of the uncertainty attaching to 

 the late-summer doings of birds in general. 

 Every student must have had experiences 

 of a sort to make him slow to dogmatize 

 when such points are in question. Through- 

 out May and June, for example, he has 

 heard and seen wood thrushes in a certain 

 grove. After that, for a whole month, he 

 hears and sees nothing, though he is fre- 

 quently there. The thrushes have gone? 

 So it would seem. But then, suddenly, 

 they are singing again in the very same 

 trees, and he is forced to conclude that they 

 have not been away, but during their period 

 of midsummer silence have eluded his no- 

 tice. On the whole, therefore, after mak- 

 ing allowance for particular cases in which 

 we may have more precise information, it 

 would be hard, I think, to say just when 

 our nocturnal travelers set out on their 

 long journey. As the poet prayed Life to 

 do, 



