THE FOREST 193 



is the behavior of a small Hock of starlings who 

 also roost in the forest. Not a sound is heard 

 from them until fifteen or twenty minutes after 

 the departure of the robins, when, with a prelim- 

 inary chirp — although I do not always hear this 

 — they are off with a silken swish of wings. 



At night, in walking in the darkness to my cot, 

 I am careful not to hit the tree trunks, for, if I 

 do, I am apt to awaken one or more of the slum- 

 bering robins, and the commotion caused by their 

 alarm notes and fluttering of wings often spreads 

 in all directions like ripples on a pond. On clear 

 moonlight nights occasional conversational notes 

 and a shifting of positions are not uncommon 

 among the birds. 



One June morning at daybreak, I was aroused 

 from my sleep in the forest by a great outcry 

 among the robins who were flying about in a nerv- 

 ous, alarmed manner. A few grackles, red- 

 wings, yellow warblers and chickadees added to 

 the tumult. Later I discovered a short distance 

 from my bed the feathers of a robin that had 

 been eaten by a hawk. The offender in this 

 case was a marsh hawk, who had varied his 



