THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 71 



Romance 



The migration of birds is full, not only 

 of mystery, but also of a picturesque 

 strangeness which amounts to romance. 

 In the romance there are several fasci- 

 nating features, but the feature which 

 moves me the most profoundly is the 

 migratory journey itself, taken as a total 

 with both its long distance and its con- 

 tinuous peril. 



One May morning, in "Drew Forest," 

 I heard a high-pitched bird-call, not quite 

 a whistle. It sounded like the whisper 

 note of the cedar waxwing, only raised to 

 a higher power. Quietly I maneuvered 

 nearer and soon I heard much more — a 

 series of sibilant notes — tsit, tsit, tsit } tsit, 

 tsit, tsit — six of them, "cobweb thin and 

 glassy clear," hesitatingly given, first 

 crescendo and then diminuendo. Search- 

 ing eagerly, I noticed a slight flurry in 

 the thick foliage, and then, just behind a 

 twist of leaves, I glimpsed a bobbing mite 

 of a bird, five to six inches long. In a 



