46 WILD BIRDS 



did avail. The last laps, the exact destination, 

 may well have been done through the map in the 

 brain of this traveller. Memories of places sleep 

 in our own minds for years. Consciously and 

 unconsciously, we mark and register landmarks 

 small and great. Every man in some degree is 

 cartologist, only the skill of his fingers is far less 

 than the skill of his brain. But if we make and 

 carry in ourselves our own maps, how much more 

 must the bird and the insect do so. They depend 

 on the closeness and accuracy of their observations ; 

 whereas we, in difficulties, have a printed map or 

 a signpost to help, or we have others to carry us to 

 our destination. It is as simple as taking out our 

 watch and telling the time. 



As civilisation grows more civilised and printed 

 matter and all the conveniences of life grow with it, 

 we must tend to depend less and less on our observa- 

 tions of landmarks, of the lie of the land. A cen- 

 tury hence it may be impossible for a man to lose 

 his way in any part of the world. But the wild 

 creature lives by its observations. So its sense 

 of locality (which is not, as some think, a separate 

 sense, but a mingling, a working together of several 

 of the known senses) is strong and true. The wild 

 creature is born with this power, and is ever forced 

 to keep it active and bright. This does not tell us 

 all the secret of bird passage over thousands of 

 miles of sea and land, but we must not leave it out 

 of account ; it plays a great part in travel. 



