THE TRAVELS OF BIRDS 



early October. Swallows sleep in the reeds or 

 cat-tails which grow in vast marshes. There 

 they are so hidden that you might pass very near 

 them without seeing a bird. But suddenly, like 

 an exploding firework which fills the air with 

 sparks, they burst from their roost and there is a 

 swarm of happy, twittering birds above you. A 

 moment later they have gone, each one to hunt 

 its breakfast. 



At midday and in the early afternoon, one 

 may see them resting in long rows on the electric 

 wires. Late in the afternoon they begin to return 

 to the marshes, darting for mosquitoes and other 

 insects as they go. During the day they have 

 flown far. Thus they gain the practice which 

 makes them ready for the great journey to the 

 South. 



How they know when it is time to start, who 

 can say? But that they all know it is certain. 

 On that day all the Swallows which have been 

 roosting within miles of one another rise up in 

 the air together. From a distance they look like 

 a snowstorm of great black flakes. There seems 

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