PURPLE MARTIN. 343 
outcry of alarmed crows and blackbirds which had retired into the same willows long 
before. : 
“Such vast numbers of Martins cannot be sent forth from one city nor from a 
few’ counties. The Martins of half of the States of Missouri and Illinois must flock 
together to form such an army. But it is not yet migration; it is only the prelude to 
it. Such common roosts are the starting points for those thousands, and are the resting 
stations for many more thousands which pass through in the last week of August. and 
in September. 
“Our birds became peculiarly excited and mysteriously restless after Aug.12. After. 
an interval of several weeks, the old birds began at this day to visit their boxes again, 
hung around them for half hours, not with merry carols as in early summer, but for 
the purpose of giving a last look at the scenes of former happiness. 
“Aug. 20 and 21 were stormy, followed by a north wind period with several cool 
nights. The tactics of the great army were now changed. Migration began. After the 
24th, the gatherings on this side of the river ceased, our St. Louis Martins had left, 
and to the St. Louis man the Martins had become very scarce. Not to the initiated, 
and if you come along with me across the Mississippi, I will show you more Martins 
than one can otherwise see in a life-time. __ 
“It is Aug. 25,6 P. M. Only a few Martins are seen on this side of the river 
going east. We take a skiff and follow them. After ten minutes’ rowing, we approach 
the opposite shore. What is that? Hundreds and hundreds of birds sailing low, above 
the water, hundreds of silvery splashes flashing up from the now dark waters of the 
great river. What a strange sight! The Martins are taking their bath. Now we are 
on the sand-bar of the Illinois side, opposite the southern part of St. Louis, just north 
of Arsenal Island. It isa large tract of fine river sand, newly formed, almost quite dry 
and free from vegetation, except a strip along the willow thickets which border it on 
the east. It is 6:30. Since we have arrived, the air all around us has filled up with 
martins, pouring in from all directions, high up and low above the water, all going 
toward the one place—the outer rim of the sand-bar, where on a few acres of sand 
ten thousand Martins are sitting already in solemn silence, probably in secret session. 
Ten thousand Martins sitting close together on a few acres of sand-bar is a sight not 
often met with, and we must look at them very sharply. They are not very shy, many 
alight a few yards from us, and we can watch every movement. The only movement 
we can see is a picking motion as if taking up a grain of sand, but this is only play 
work, because we see them also pick at straw protruding from the sand. They did not 
come to eat sand, their only purpose is to meet here and decide if to go on with theit 
journey southward or to take a rest in the neighboring roost. It is now 6:45 and 
getting dusk. The smoke of the city, driven by a north-east wind, has enveloped the 
western horizon and all will be dark in a few minutes. Do they sleep on that sand? 
They have been sitting here now for half an hour. Look here, four birds coming toward 
the willows, they are scouts! Is this not a strange call, a call never heard around 
their breeding boxes? They are now all four above us, circling over the willows and 
returning to the sand. Presently the ranks of the Martins thin out, and in less than a 
minute all have left the sand, flying out on the river, down toward the island, rising 
