214 Birds of Buzzard's Roost 



acting upon the advice of my father, I made two bracelets of 

 coiled hair wire, and catching the birds, fastened one about 

 the leg of each. For the following five years the same pair 

 of swifts occupied the nest. * * * The summer of '90 I 

 climbed into the old loft, and found to all appearances the same 

 old nest, and upon catching the old birds, found that one still 

 had the copper wire upon its leg. * * * Two interesting 

 facts were demonstrated : First that the swift at least remains 

 mated for life, and, second, that they are a long lived bird. 

 * * * The nest to my knowledge has been there over thirty 

 years." 



John James Audubon, the famous American ornitholo- 

 gist, who wrote so interestingly about the swift, was born May 

 4, 1780, on a plantation in Louisiana. From his earliest child- 

 hood to the time of his death, a passion possessed him to make 

 long journeys on foot through the unbroken forests, from the 

 everglades of Florida to the coasts of Labrador, for the pur- 

 pose of studying the denizens of the forest, and especially the 

 birds. From the Great Lakes of the North to the wildest sol- 

 itudes of the Western prairies, there were few accessible spots 

 which escaped his restless wanderings. In 1833 he established 

 himself in a beautiful residence, Minnie's land, on the banks 

 of the Hudson, near the city of New York, and he died there 

 January 27, 1851, the place now being called Audubon Park, 

 he then being near seventy years old, and was buried in Trin- 

 ity cemetery, near by his residence. "He was taken ill and 

 sank to rest," says one who was present, "as a child sinks to 

 refreshing sleep." 



A beautiful story related by an eye witness is this : "As I 

 stood near Trinity cemetery the other evening, watching the 

 gathering hosts of birds circling against the pale light of the 

 sky, I noticed a white-haired old man leaning against a tree 

 and gazing upward. From north and south, east and west, 

 flocks of the graceful birds were arriving every moment to 

 join the swirling multitudes. There were literally thousands 

 of them swooping in a wide circle over the silent graveyard 

 and filling the air with plaintive cries. Suddenly the old man 

 said, 'What a beautiful sight that is. I have watched these 

 flights for years. During the summer the birds come every 



