UNDER THE MAPLES 



ing radically from its everyday performance. One 

 thinks of the bobolink as singing almost habitually 

 on the wing. He is the most rollicking and song- 

 drunk of all our singing birds. His season is brief 

 but hilarious. In his level flight he seems to use 

 only the tips of his wings, and we see them always 

 below the level of his back. Our common birds 

 that have no flight-song, so far as I have observed, 

 are the bluebird, the robin, the phoebe, the social 

 sparrow, the tanager, the grosbeak, the pewee, the 

 wood warblers, and most of the ground warblers. 



Over thirty years ago a writer on flying-machines 

 had this to say about the flight of sea-gulls: 

 "Sweeping around in circles, occasionally elevating 

 themselves by a few flaps of the wings, they glide 

 down and up the aerial inclines without apparently 

 any effort whatever. But a close observation 

 will show that at every turn the angle of inclina- 

 tion of the wings is changed to meet the new condi- 

 tions. There is continual movement with power — 

 by the bird it is done instinctively, by our machine 

 only through mechanism obeying a mind not nearly 

 so well instructed." 



The albatross will follow a ship at sea, sailing 

 round and round, in a brisk breeze, on unbending 

 wing, only now and then righting itself with a 

 single flap of its great pinions. It literally rides 

 Aipon the storm. 



