72 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



with fatigue, they perch for hours in the rigging 

 before taking flight in the direction of the nearest 

 land, or, desperate from hunger, they fly fear- 

 lessly down to the deck, where food and water are 

 seldom refused them. 



Small events like these are welcome breaks in 

 the monotony of a long ocean voyage, but are soon 

 forgotten at the end of the trip. 



Two of these ocean waifs were once brought to 

 me. One was a young European heron which flew 

 on board a vessel when it was about two hundred 

 and five miles southeast of the southern extremity 

 of India. A storm must have driven the bird sea- 

 ward, as there is no migration route near this 

 locality. 



The second bird was a European turtle dove 

 which w r as captured not less than seven hundred 

 and fifty miles from the nearest land — Ireland. 

 When caught it was in an exhausted condition, 

 but it quickly recovered and soon lost all signs of 

 the buffeting of the storm. The turtle dove 

 migrates northward to the British Islands about 

 the first of May, but as this bird was captured on 

 May 17th, it was not migrating, but, caught by a 

 gust of wind, was probably blown away from the 

 land. The force of the storm would then drive it 

 mile after mile, allowing it no chance of controll- 

 ing the direction of its flight, but, from the very 

 velocity, making it easy for the bird to maintain 

 its equilibrium. 



