262 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIEDS 



At length detect them high overhead, advancing north- 

 east in loose array, with a broad extended front, com- 

 peting with each other, winging their way to some 

 northern meadow which they remember. The note of 

 some is like the squeaking of many signs, while others 

 accompany them with a steady dry tchuck, tchuck. 



Aug. 18, 1858. I also see large flocks of blackbirds, 

 blackish birds with chattering notes. It is a fine sight 

 when you can look down on them just as they are set- 

 tling on the ground with outspread wings, — a hovering 

 flock. 



March 13, 1859. I see a small flock of blackbirds 

 flying over, some rising, others falling, yet all advancing 

 together, one flock but many birds, some silent, others 

 tchucking, — incessant alternation. This harmonious 

 movement as in a dance, this agreeing to differ, makes 

 the charm of the spectacle to me. One bird looks frac- 

 tional, naked, like a single thread or ravelling from the 

 web to which it belongs. Alternation ! Alternation ! 

 Heaven and hell ! Here again in the flight of a bird, its 

 ricochet motion, is that undulation observed in so many 

 materials, as in the mackerel sky. 



March 28, 1859. As we were paddling over the Great 

 Meadows, I saw at a distance, high in the air above the 

 middle of the meadow, a very compact flock of black- 

 birds advancing against the sun. Though there were 

 more than a hundred, they did not appear to occupy 

 more than six feet in breadth, but the whole flock was 

 dashing first to the right and then to the left. When 

 advancing straight toward me and the sun, they made 

 but little impression on the eye, — so many fine dark 



