INTRODUCTION. 13 



Regarding the services rendered by the more experienced mem- 

 bers in guiding the flock, the value of these will be seen when we 

 remember that the bulk of our birds are born in the north, and are 

 called upon to provide for the coming winter at an age when they are 

 without personal experience of any kind. That all birds migrate in 

 flocks is generally admitted, although it is only the larger species of 

 water-fowl whose movements on such occasions come within the 

 range of our observation. 



The migrations of the smaller birds are noticed chiefly by their 

 absence or presence in their usual haunts. For instance, when in 

 the marsh on an afternoon toward the end of September, we noticed 

 that the Sora Rails, birds of apparently weak and uncertain flight, 

 were very abundant. Every few steps we made one would get up, fly 

 a few yards, and again drop, apparently exhausted, among the reeds. 

 During the night a sharp frost set in, the first of the season, and on 

 visiting the same part of the marsh next day, not a single Rail could 

 be found. All had gone during the night. The migrations of this 

 species are always performed at night, when the birds cannot be 

 seen, but we have occasionally heard the weak, whimpering note 

 the birds utter when travelling, to prevent the weaklings from 

 getting lost. 



The geese are the most conspicuous of our migratory birds, the 

 A-shaped flocks and the hoarse, honking cry being familiar to all 

 Canadians. In the Hudson's Bay regions, where these birds are 

 raised, we are told that at the approach of winter there are great 

 gatherings of old and young along the shores, and great gabbling and 

 apparent discussions relating to the journey in which they are about 

 to start. All finally soar aloft and assume the usual A-shajpe, at 

 the apex of which is the leader, always an old male, more or less 

 familiar with the route. It is also said that the senior members of 

 the flock take this position by turns, and relieve each other of the 

 responsibility which for a time they assume. So they press on toward 

 the south, lakes and rivers, which at night all show clearer and 

 brighter than the land, being never-failing guides throughout the 

 journey. 



Some of the water-fowl seem so reluctant to leave their northern 

 home that they remain until they are actually frozen out. On the 

 other hand some of the waders leave their summer haunts long 

 before we can see any necessity for their doing so. In the latter 

 part of August, while lying awake with the windows open during 

 the warm summer night, we can hear the skirling of the Sandpipers 



