JOURNAL OF MAINE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



45 



after being shot at) I or the dog was 

 unable to find it, although I spent an 

 hour searching for it. 



November 7, 1899. Received from 

 Winter Harbor, Mt. Desert, Me., a 

 Purple Gallinue. This bird was taken 

 during a thick fog on a small island 

 at the above mentioned place, and was 

 a male bird in immature plumage. 



May 9, 1901. Received a female of 

 the Little Blue Heron taken at Pop- 

 ham Beach. It was in the white 

 phase of plumage and the condition 

 of the ovaries indicated that the bird 

 would have bred under favorable con- 

 ditions. It was noticed for a number 

 of days to leave Popham Beach late 

 in the afternoon and flying across the 

 river to Georgetown, returning quite 

 early the following morning. 



December 13, 1901. Took my first 

 specimen of the American Pipit. It 

 was hopping around on .the ground 

 the same as a sparrow, and the dark 

 color of breast and white on tail 

 feathers attracted my attention. 



CAPT. HERBERT L. SPINNEY. 



(Note — An article appears in the 

 Osprey, May number, by B. J. Breth- 

 erton, "The Destruction of Birds by 

 Lighthouses," which is of very gen- 

 eral interest. — Ed). 



I sat in meditation one sultry summer 

 day, 



Upon the Homestead Hills, that over- 

 look the bay; 



I gazed up Widgeon Cove and on Orr's 

 Island shore, 



And fancied I was back again ,some 

 sixty years or more. 



The scene was just as lovely, as sixty 

 years ago. 



The waters still continued their con- 

 stant ebb and flow, 



The landscape was the same, the 

 ocean and bay, 



Because where God had placed them, 

 there they had to stay. 



The cooling ocean breeze, caressed my 

 wrinkled brow, 



And whispered of enjoyments almost 

 forgotten now; 



Disturbed the banked up fires of mem- 

 ory and then. 



Fanned their dying embers into life 

 again. 



The air was most delicious, the sun 

 was shining bright; 



The ripples on the water sported with 

 delight. 



Remembered scenes around me made 

 my heart to thrill, 



And yet my longing soul was strange- 

 ly longing still. 



But there was something lacking, 

 what could that something be? 



In hopeless expectation, I looked 

 around to see. 



I listened most intently for some fa- 

 miliar sound, 



But a deathly stillness had settled all 

 around. 



At last it dawned upon me, that worse 



than any Turk, 

 The wicked modern hunter had here 



got in his work. 

 Not a living object was anywhere in 



sight, 

 The most of them are dead; the rest 



have taken flight. 

 The tamest birds are slaughtered, the 



Osprey with the rest; 

 Banished him entirely, not even left 



his nest. 

 The patient watchful Heron from the 



scene has fled; 

 We miss his stately presence out on 



the mussel bed. 



We listen for the chitter of the squir- 

 rel in the trees; 



