WINGED VOYAGERS. 83 



trill little snatches of song, inure themselves to 

 flight by longer or shorter excursions about the 

 country, and then join the northward procession 

 en route for their breeding-haunts in British Amer- 

 ica. With regret I bid them adieu, but find com- 

 pensation in the knowledge that their places will 

 be supplied by a brilliant company of summer 

 residents. 



One of the strangest features of migration is the 

 fact that a bird will sometimes make the voyage 

 from north to south, and vice versa — or a part of 

 the voyage — alone, at least as far as companionship 

 with individuals of its own kind is concerned. 

 Whether this is done advertently or inadvertently I 

 am unable to say, but the fact cannot be disputed. 

 In the spring of 1892, as noted in another chapter, 

 a hooded warbler was flitting about a gravel bank in 

 a wooded hollow, and although I scoured the coun- 

 try for miles around day after day, I never met 

 another bird of this species. The little Apollo in 

 feathers was so gentle and familiar that surely his 

 mates would not have escaped my notice had there 

 been any in the neighborhood. Why he preferred 

 to travel alone, or in company with other species 

 rather than his own kin, might be an interesting 

 problem in avian psychology. A little farther down 

 the glen a single mourning warbler was also seen at 

 almost the same date. His companions had prob- 

 ably wished him bon voyage, and left him to strike 

 out in an independent course through the trackless 

 ocean of air. 



