ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY BULLETIN 



59 



twenty seconds, his "messengers of hate" de- 

 stroyed some sod in the little clearing a hundred 

 yards to the east. The noise and flinging of 

 stones lasted about twenty minutes. At the 

 first burst, which was a loud one. dozens of 

 finches hastily betook themselves to the shelter 

 of our trees and remained there. A few crows 

 flapped over the hill. But an hour after the 

 firing ceased they were all back again, the finch- 

 is hidden in the bushes and tall grass where 

 they inquisitively inspected the new craters : the 

 crows busied on their horses once more. 



Small chestnut-red squirrels scampered among 

 the trees and splintered stumps. There was no 

 other place to go. Rabbits remained in their 

 beds regardless of the repeated jars to the 

 earth. Gas in the bottom-lands must have caused 

 havoc among them, but of this there was no 

 evidence. They were present on the hills dur- 

 ing the battle. Partridges were not so valiant. 

 They ran in coveys from the noise and were 

 seen only in the back areas. 



One evening, just before sun-down, three 

 herons flew over the trees and soared low to- 

 ward the marsh of the valley. They seemed 

 about to alight for they circled several times 

 above a certain newly formed lake, but some- 

 thing suspicious about the place made them 

 hesitate. Then a large two hundred and ten 

 shell — locally named a "rolling kitchen" — clat- 

 tered by and buried itself in the pond. It gave 

 forth a dull hollow sound for it struck deep, 

 and black smoke mixed with mud and a shower 

 of rain filled the neighborhood. There was a 

 squawk, and three frightened herons, much to 

 the enjoyment of my orderly who rode behind 

 me, rose high in the air. With outstretched 

 necks and frantically beating wings they sought 

 less cyclonic regions. 



Hawks were plentiful, though not so common 

 as I found later in the Argonne Forest. The 

 large broad-winged varieties could be seen each 

 day wheeling high above the trees, while the 

 smaller falcons from time to time hovered bare- 

 ly fifty feet from the ground. They seemed to 

 have a special enmity toward the larger species 

 and boldly attacked them whenever seen. One 

 even charged up to meet an approaching aero- 

 plane, but the rattle of the engine, the size 

 of the machine or its obvious indifference to at- 

 tack caused the falcon to change its mind be- 

 fore it had gone far, so it turned to seek a more 

 timid foe. 



Anti-aircraft guns disturbed the higher fly- 

 ing buzzards, and usually when the little white 

 and grey puffs appeared they foregathered to 

 areas not quite so jarring. They returned, how- 



ever, when the firing was over, attracted, no 

 doubt, by the aeroplanes that still hovered 

 about. 



We arrived in the Argonne Forest in the lat- 

 ter part of September. Back of the lines, which 

 had been quiet for two years, the forest life, 

 so far as it had to do with birds, was normal. 

 Migration had commenced and the woods were 

 full of feathered creatures I had never seen 

 before. Between the trenches, in No-Man's- 

 Land, finches were common, for the entire area, 

 except small exciting sections where No-Man's 

 Land consisted only of a great coil of wire be- 

 tween the opposing trenches, was grown over 

 with weeds and low bushes. Here old nests 

 were later found built on the barbed wire. 

 Wrens made their homes in nooks of the trench- 

 es. Magpies dotted the grassy bottom-lands 

 and flew to the dead poles that four years be- 

 fore had been trees. Crows were scarce, for 

 the pickings were poor, and did not appear in 

 numbers until a few days after the attack 

 commenced. 



The famous barrage that opened the battle 

 lasted for many hours. Tens of thousands of 

 shells were fired. One battery of four guns 

 alone fired thirty-two hundred rounds and there 

 were hundreds of guns in action. The noise 

 and concussion was terrific. And yet, a few 

 days later, when I was more at leisure to exam- 

 ine the battered areas, the birds were still there 

 in their accustomed haunts, or what was left 

 of them. Several wrens had quarters in the 

 same old trench as I, and the terrible blast of 

 a six-inch rifle — G.P.F. — perched a few yards 

 above us affected them less than it did me. 

 They only cocked their tails at the report and 

 looked wise. 



The second great attack which took us to 

 Sedan and the Meuse. began on November 

 first. We covered territory so rapidly that be- 

 yond a heavy blasting of roads and machine gun 

 nests little damage was done to the country. 

 The fields were unmarred. and deer and wild 

 pigs that had escaped the eye of the prowling 

 Hun remained undisturbed in the forests, which 

 were full of migrating birds. The sounds of 

 the passing conflict left the birds unterrified, 

 for. to them, perhaps, it was but an autumnal 

 storm. 



A cam]) was sure to attract hundreds of larks, 

 starlings and English sparrows to feed on the 

 scraps and grain thrown out. One night the 

 enemy bombed a large field in which rested 

 hundreds of weary men and horses. At dusk 

 the spaces around the wagons and near the 

 picket lines were covered with larks and spar- 



