A Tragic St. Valentine's Day 



BY ANNIE TRUMBULL SLOSSON 



*HE cold wave reached us at Miami, on Biscaynu Bay, 

 Plorida, in the night of February 12, 1899. It was 

 preceded by severe thunder storms in the evening. 

 On the 13th, Monday, it was very cold all over the 

 2^*^$ 5c'?S^?^— 'T state, with snow and sleet as far south as Ormond 

 /^X^v^liXp?:^ w^' and Titusville. Our thermometers at Miami ranged 

 ^■l.T^f^i^^r'^' '' f^o"^ 3^° to 40° during the day. As I sat m my 

 ^, I ' '''fl\':-y^ room at the hotel, about four in the afternoon, I saw 

 I ' ' ■ a bird outside my window, then another and another, 



and soon the air seemed full of wings. 

 Opening my window to see what the visitors could be, I found 

 they were Tree Swallows ( Tixcliycincta bicolor). Several flew into 

 my room, others clustered on the window ledge, huddling closely 

 together for warmth. There were hundreds of them about the house 

 seeking shelter and warmth. They crept in behind the window 

 blinds, came into open windows, huddled together by dozens on 

 cornices and sills. They were quite fearless ; once I held my hand 

 outside and two of them lighted on its palm and sat there quietly. 

 As it grew dark and colder their numbers increased. They fiew 

 about the halls and perched in corners, and the whole house was 

 alive with them. FeAV of the guests in the hotel knew what they 

 were; some even called them 'bats,' and w'ere afraid they might 

 fly into their faces or become entangled in their hair. One man 

 informed those about him that they were Humming Birds, 'the 

 large kind, you know,' but all were full of sympathy for the beau- 

 tiful little creatures, out in the cold and darkness. A few were 

 taken indoors and sheltered through the night, but ' what were 

 these among so many ? ' 



The next morning the sun shone brightly though the weather 

 was still very cold — the mercury had fallen below 30° during the 

 night. But as I raised the shade of one of my eastern windows I 

 saw a half-dozen of the Swallows sitting upon the ledge in the sun- 

 shine, while the air seemed again filled with flashing wings. I was 

 so relieved and glad. Surely the tiny creatures, with their tints of 

 steely blue or shining green contrasting with the pure white of the 

 under parts, were more hardy than I had feared. But alas I it was 

 but a remnant that escaped. Hundreds were found dead. Men were 

 sent out with baskets to gather the limp little bodies from piazzas, 

 window ledges, and copings. It was a pitiful sight for St. \'alen- 

 tine Day, when, as the old song has it. 



"The birds are all choosirifi their mates." 

 (45) 



