156 THE RING OF NATURE 



blinded bee does ? It is thought that a bird dis- 

 turbed at midnight is unable to find a new roost 

 that night. 



Only under the mighty impulse of the annual 

 migration do our day birds become night birds, 

 our fluttering birds flying birds, traversing thou- 

 sands of miles of air high above the clouds and in 

 the pitch dark. In the usual sense, they must be 

 completely lost then. If they reasoned about it, 

 out of sheer fright they would drop into the sea. 

 But instinct or the faith that removes moun- 

 tains leads them on and makes them perform 

 miracles. You might take the willow- wren and con- 

 struct from its model a flying machine a thou- 

 sand times as efficient, yet that flying machine 

 would be left behind in all points if it attempted 

 to join in the willow -wren's flight from the Cape to 

 England in April. 



With such an illusive topic, what wonder that 

 I have lost myself ? These woods, familiar enough 

 by day, have put on a garb of entire novelty. 

 Instead of screes, there are banks of thyme ; instead 

 of pools, sand hills; instead of bracken, ragwort 

 and willow-herb ; instead of beech, mangroves ; 

 instead of maples, cocoanut palms. I think I 

 am coming out on the north side by Buckholt. 

 I begin to construct the landscape on that theory. 

 Of course. Yonder is the haystack, felt rather 

 than seen as an extra thickness of air. That 

 notch in the sky is the entrance to the avenue by 

 which I shall soon return home. That 



