THE PASSENGER PIGEON. 143 



der, and actually tarried there till the rising of 

 the sun;" at which time, Mr. Audubon informs 

 us, they were seen sneaking off. He himself saw 

 what he relates. 



But let us pass on. "The pigeons," continues 

 Mr. Audubon, "arriving by thousands, alighted 

 everywhere, one above another, until solid masses 

 as large as hogsheads were formed on the branches 

 all around." Solid masses I Our European pigeons, 

 in a similar situation, would have been all smo- 

 thered in less than three minutes. Mr. Audubon 

 informs us, towards the end of his narrative, that 

 the feathers of this pigeon " fall off at the least 

 touch." From this, we may infer to a certainty 

 that every pigeon which was unlucky enough to 

 be undermost in the solid masses would lose every 

 feather from its uppermost parts, through the 

 pressure of the feet of those above it. Now, I 

 would fain believe that instinct taught these pi- 

 geons to resort to a certain part of the forest, 

 solely for the purpose of repose, and not to undergo 

 a process of inevitable suffocation ; and, at the 

 same time, to have their backs deprived of every 

 feather, while they were voluntarily submitting to 

 this self-inflicted method of ending their days. 



" Many trees," says Mr. Audubon, " two feet in 

 diameter, I observed, were broken off at no great 

 distance from the ground ; and the branches of 

 many of the largest and tallest had given way, 

 as if the forest had been swept by a tornado. 

 Every thing proved to me that the number of 

 birds resorting to this part of the forest must be 



