WAYS OF NATURE 
for the night in a large chimney-stack in a city near 
me, for more than a month and a half. Several times 
I went to town to witness the spectacle, and a spec- 
tacle it was: ten thousand of them, I should think, 
filling the air above a whole square like a whirling 
swarm of huge black bees, but saluting the ear with 
a multitudinous chippering, instead of a humming. 
People gathered upon the sidewalks to see them. It 
was a rare circus performance, free to all. After a 
great many feints and playful approaches, the whirl- 
ing ring of birds would suddenly grow denser above 
the chimney ; then a stream of them, as if drawn 
down by some power of suction, would pour into the 
opening. For only a few seconds would this down- 
ward rush continue; then, as if the spirit of frolic 
had again got the upper hand of them, the ring 
would rise, and the chippering and circling go on. 
In a minute or two the same manceuvre would be 
repeated, the chimney, as it were, taking its swal- 
lows at intervals to prevent choking. It usually took 
a half-hour or more for the birds all to disappear 
down its capacious throat. There was always an air 
of timidity and irresolution about their approach 
to the chimney, just as there always is about their 
approach to the dead tree-top from which they 
procure their twigs for nest-building. Often did I 
see birds hesitate above the opening and then pass 
on, apparently as though they had not struck it at 
just the right angle. On one occasion a solitary bird 
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