196 THE MIGRATION OF HIRUNDO RUSTICA. 
a single great cloud. Wherever we look the swarms are 
fast approaching; the grand sight of the confluence of two 
multitudes of birds just witnessed repeats itself on all sides, 
Quicker, dear reader, than I am able to express to you in 
words, most of these living clouds, at times overshot with 
a gleam of reddish sheen, the reflection of some real clouds 
still beaming in crimson on the far western horizon, have 
united in ten large swarms—no, in eight only; and look, 
they are still uniting! Our cries cease; we remain silent for 
a few moments, and then a loud cheer rings through the air. 
The endless swarms of Sza//ows have united into a single 
mighty cloud. Who could count them? The air is filled 
with them and with the noise they make with wings and 
voices, The swarm of more than hundreds of thousands 
moves up and down, to and fro, lowering itself quickly down 
to the reeds and rising just as swiftly high up into the air ; 
it moves like a living tidal wave and sounds like the rushing of 
mighty winds. And the voice of those countless feathered 
singers expresses their pleasure at having met again at the 
place of their night’s rest, which they have visited for weeks 
already and to which they will nightly resort for four months 
longer before departing for the far north. 
The faded crimson on the western sky has disappeared. 
The evenings on these high African plateaus are very short. 
The night is fast approaching. Still the living, dark and 
noisy billow rolls up and down, a little less voluminous than 
before, as thousands have already joined the whistling 
Finches among the reeds. Suddenly the wave subsides, and 
turns sharply toward the grassy plain, as if it would leave the 
swamp for good ; but just as suddenly it returns in a semi- 
circle and striking the reeds sinks among them, not to 
rise again. The voices still keep on; no wonder that dis- 
putes arise among the Swallows themselves and also with 
the Finches regarding about three inches of space on the same 
reed stem. This noise keeps on for about a quarter of an hour, 
when it ceases. At last the weary birds have found a place 
