THE SPRING BIRD PROCESSION 



the passenger pigeons would not hail it as one of the 

 gladdest hours of his life if he could be permitted to 

 witness it once more? It was such a spectacle of 

 bounty, of joyous, copious animal life, of fertility in 

 the air and in the wilderness, as to make the heart 

 glad. I have seen the fields and woods fairly inun- 

 dated for a day or two with these, fluttering, piping, 

 blue-and-white hosts. The very air at times seemed 

 suddenly to turn to pigeons. 



One May evening recently, near sundown, as I 

 sat in my summer-house here in the Hudson Valley, 

 I saw a long, curved line of migrating fowl high in 

 the air, moving with great speed northward, and for 

 a moment I felt the old thrill that I used to experi- 

 ence on beholding the pigeons. Fifty years ago I 

 should have felt sure that they were pigeons; but 

 they were only ducks. A more, intense scrutiny 

 failed to reveal the sharp, arrow-like effect of a 

 swiftly moving flock of pigeons. The rounder, 

 bottle-shaped bodies of the ducks also became ap- 

 parent. But migrating ducks are a pleasing spec- 

 tacle, and when, a little later, a line of geese came 

 into my field of vision, and re-formed and trimmed 

 their ranks there against the rosy sky above me, 

 and drove northward with their masterly flight, 

 there was no suggestion of the barnyard or farm 

 pond up there. 



"Whither, midst falling dew. 

 While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 

 5 



