A WINTER CROW ROOST 149 



trees and spread off towards the west, obscurely 

 seen in the dim light except when the birds stood 

 out against the beginning red glow in the east 

 or against the light of the setting moon in the 

 west. As I stood concealed on the hillside 

 among a grove of spruces, the crows passed over 

 my head, noiselessly, except for the silken swish 

 of their wings, fully a thousand strong. Then no 

 more for over five minutes although the tumult 

 in the roost continued in increasing volume. At 

 6.40 the roost boiled over again, but the birds, 

 spreading in all directions, soon united into a 

 black river that flowed over the dunes to the 

 south. The settings for this black stream were 

 the white sand dunes and the luminous glow in 

 the east which had become a brilliant crimson, 

 fading to orange and yellow and cut by a broad 

 band of pink haze that streamed up to the zenith. 

 The morning star glowed brightly until almost 

 broad daylight. The sun rose at 7.14. At 7, 

 I entered the roost and hurried away the few hun- 

 dred remaining birds some of whom were in the 

 bare tops of the hard woods ready to depart, 

 while others were still dozing in the evergreens 



