34 STOKTES OF BIRD LIFE 



Bib-neck saw a wounded one that flew out over the breakers 

 sink lower and lower until it fell. For a time it rode the 

 waves, but these at length beat out its life, and long after 

 the gunners had gone he watched its small white body as 

 it rose and fell on the billows, drifting out to sea. 



One afternoon it began to rain. All night the clouds 

 gathered and the rain fell and the wind blew. The sky 

 and the sea were very black except for the pale glow of the 

 white caps on the shore. Of the hosts hurrying south- 

 ward many lost their way because they could not see the 

 landmarks below, and were driven out to sea and the hun- 

 gry waves swallowed up their weary bodies. Others were 

 blinded by the glare of the lighthouse and dashed help- 

 lessly against the big lamp or struck the sides of the tower 

 and were killed. It was a terrible night for the migrating 

 birds and many thousands must have perished. 



Soon after this a flock of large, fine looking birds was 

 seen feeding on the beach. If the old plovers had really 

 known they might have told their children that these birds 

 were plovers also, their relatives, the black-bellied plovers 

 who lived in the far north and were now on their way 

 south, like so many other birds, to spend the winter months. 

 The sight of these but stirred Bib-neck's spirit the more, 

 for a great longing had grown in his mind to fly away to 

 the southward with the migrating multitudes. 



