224 Next to the Ground 



if the first nest came to grief. Yet they left 

 the nesting-place about the last of May, flying 

 away straight north, and leaving the trees of 

 it stripped, broken, dying, worse used, if pos- 

 sible, than the timber of the roost. The young 

 went in flocks by themselves, flying just below 

 the tops of the trees, the hen pigeons flew just 

 above the tree-tops, and the cocks highest of 

 all — so high indeed that sometimes they were 

 out of sight. Major Baker had gone several 

 times to see the nesting-place, also to watch 

 the flocks setting out, as it was popularly be- 

 lieved, for the North Pole. Nobody in close 

 neighborhood regretted their going. Regret 

 came in later falls, when the flocks got fewer 

 and smaller, then, all at once, did not come at 

 all. 



Word comes that the wild pigeons, flying 

 down across Mexico, have found asylum in 

 the wilds of South America. Whether the 

 word be true or false, their migration is a 

 mystery, only partly explicable by the narrow- 

 ing of their feeding-grounds. They live 

 largely upon beech mast, wild rice, wild oats, 

 and the seed of other coarse grasses growing 

 along natural meadows. They also eat post- 

 oak mast, hazel nuts, dried grapes, and wild 

 peas, foraging at a pinch in winter wheat 

 fields, and among standing cornstalks. Much 

 clearing has turned their favorite ranges, the 



